


if you leave the light on

by sithsoupsnakes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28018443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sithsoupsnakes/pseuds/sithsoupsnakes
Summary: "Her mind just feels jumbled. She's exhausted and wired at the same time, still waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Mary Margaret said that she 'owed' it to herself to be happy, but who’s to say what would bring Emma happiness?"-3x11 canon divergence. Pan's curse is stopped; the town is safe.  It's time for Emma to learn what it means to be part of a family, to let love into her life.  So why does she feel worse than ever?
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 26
Kudos: 63
Collections: The Great Captain Swan No-Curse Renaissance





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sure there are a billion variations of this idea but I love season 3 and just couldn't help myself 🌝 i hope you guys enjoy
> 
> also this is my first time writing anything in the ouat fandom hi hello

-

The goodbyes have been made, and the clouds are closing in. Time has run out. 

There’s so much Emma wants to say – to her parents, to Neal, Hook, Regina, but all she can do is try to sear their faces into her brain, hoping against hope that some part of her will remember that she has a family that loves her. 

Emma takes a breath, and steels herself to drive away with her son and make the best of this mess.

“Wait!” Mother Superior’s urgent tone stops Emma and Henry in their tracks. “There may be another way.”

Regina rolls her eyes, still shining with tears. “And you’re only telling us now?” 

Mother Superior rushes to Regina’s side. “This curse: you may have cast it, but you,” she turns to Emma, “as the savior, you, Emma, may be able to offset the destruction of Storybrooke.”

Emma is less than hesitant to hold onto hope at this point, with the curse closing in, but Henry drags her back to the group. “How would that work?”

“It may be Regina’s curse, but it was your destiny,” Mother Superior says quickly as she places Emma’s hand on the scroll with Regina’s. “You’re just as tied to this as she is. Regina if you commit to breaking this, as caster, and you Emma, commit to preserving it, as savior,” She continues with some other explanation of ancient magical theory, one that flies right over Emma’s head, but Regina seems to understand, though she’s still grim. “Storybrooke could survive if you stand united.”

“Could?” Regina wrenches the scroll away from both Emma and Mother Superior. “We don’t have time for could! If we fail, we all suffer, Henry included. At least if I do it on my own I know he’ll be safe.”

Emma sighs, knowing Regina is right. No risk is worth their son’s life. 

She takes a step back, before feeling herself get pushed forward again by two small hands.

“No!” Henry stands firm. “You can do this. You both can.” He turns to Emma, eyes pleading. “I don’t want to be separated from everyone. Please try?” He’s addressing both of them as he begs. 

Emma locks eyes with Regina, and she knows neither of them can deny Henry.

“Alright kid.” She squares her shoulders and puts out her hand for the scroll, scanning the faces in the crowd again. 

Emma focuses in on the scroll before she can truly consider that failing now could end in everyone’s eternal torture.

Regina nods, and rips the scroll, the magic releasing into her hands. Emma catches the remnants of the parchment and immediately feels the magic run through her veins, a blinding white to offset Regina’s purple. 

She follows Regina’s lead and lifts her shaking hands to the sky, trying to think brave thoughts of saving Henry, her parents, and every soul in this strange town.

The strain of the magic almost brings her to her knees, but the feeling of Henry’s comforting hand on her arm, the memory of her parents’ last hug, it reminds her to be strong. 

For a moment she looks over to Regina, Henry’s other hand resting on her arm. Emma feels a burst of hope, knowing just how powerful they can be when it comes to keeping their son safe. 

When she turns back to the sky, their magic overtakes the sickly green clouds, and soon the sun peeks out, Pan’s curse chased back over the horizon.

There’s a pause as Emma and Regina lower their hands, a moment of dread that their world might still surprise them and explode. Emma hardly dares to breathe, feeling so drained that the only thing that keeps her present is the tight squeeze of Henry’s hand.

“Our sorry souls live to fight another day, I take it?” Emma whips her head around at the breaking of the silence to see Hook looking between her and the now clear sky, his face a mix of relief, and maybe something like awe.

Mother Superior smiles wide and the rest of the townspeople seem to take that as a sign to breathe easy. “That’s right, I think you’ve both done it.”

Henry jumps into Regina’s arms as Emma is rushed by David and Mary Margaret. “Oh Emma,” Mary Margaret whispers into her hair. “You saved us.” She reaches out and grabs onto Regina’s hand. “You both did.”

Regina seems taken aback by the gesture, but gives into it when Henry pulls them all closer. 

Emma finds she still can’t get her breath under control, one disaster avoided followed by the feeling that another could be right around the corner.

Her family don’t seem to have the same fears, but Emma’s glad for that. They deserve some rest after everything. David squeezes her tight as he turns to the crowd. “Celebration at Granny’s?”

Leroy lets out a whoop that the dwarves echo, confirming that there will be quite the crowd in the little diner, one that will probably last through the night. Emma just hopes they don’t get so rowdy that she’ll have to open up the holding cells.

People start dispersing, the panic turning into a celebratory energy that Emma’s not sure she can match just yet. The emotions of the day mixed with the magic have her wanting to flop into her bed and sleep for three weeks.

Henry decides to ride back with Regina, Neal and Belle, while her parents and somehow Hook end up assigned to Emma’s bug. 

As Mary Margaret and David stuff themselves into the backseat, Hook pauses in front of Emma. “Well done Swan, as usual.” 

Emma feels slightly strange now in his presence, given what went spoken and unspoken in the moments right before the curse-breaking. 

The look he had given her…all she can do is shrug, and shut down that thought process before it goes somewhere unknown. 

That’s just one of many things Emma should unpack, but it’s not going to happen right now.

“Yeah, well,” she turns toward the town line, remembering the promise Regina had made to her and Henry, that they would have had a normal life if they had crossed. Emma feels a strange sense of loss, followed by a wave of guilt. She just saved everyone, like her ‘destiny’ said she would. A normal life was never in the cards for Emma Swan, whatever normal even means. She turns back to Hook, leaving her walls down for just a second too long, and as usual, his eyes are still on her. She tries to keep her tone light, though she knows he somehow senses the turmoil she’s feeling. “Guess you guys can’t get rid of me that easily.”

He doesn’t respond right away, and Emma gets the sense he’s debating whether to ask her what’s bothering her or follow her lead. 

She’s not quite sure what she’ll do if he decides the former. 

Finally Hook gives her a smirk that feels like an out, one she’s grateful for in the moment. “Ah right. What’s another dark curse to the savior?” With a raise of his eyebrows he crosses back to the passenger side of the car.

Emma follows suit, and when Hook ‘accidentally’ pushes the front seat so far back that David has to sit with his knees against his chest for the ride into town, she lets herself smile. 

There’s no point in focusing on things that will never be.

-

The atmosphere at Granny’s seems even more celebratory than just a few days before, when they had believed Pan was safely inside Pandora’s box. 

Emma still shivers at the memory of sitting across from a Henry that wasn’t Henry, that feeling in her gut telling her not to let her guard down just yet.

Her gut is still unsettled as she watches the crowd ebb and flow inside the diner, friends and strangers alike going around congratulating Emma and her family as day turns to night. 

She spies Regina and Hook getting some thanks as well, both of them looking thrown off by being included in the festivities as something other than a villain.

Hook catches her eye before she can turn away, and the look he sends her has Emma focusing on her beer so hard she thinks it might start to bubble.

Before the glass has a chance to melt in her hands, Neal slides into the booth across from her.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he says with a small smile.

She wonders if this was the same booth he found himself in yesterday while she was dragging her feet down by the docks. She really had been concerned with Henry, but Emma knows; anything would have been a welcome distraction from whatever was waiting for her at Granny’s.

She can’t believe it was only a day ago, and yet so much has changed. “Neal. I’m sorry about your dad.” Emma almost reaches for his hand, but opts to wrap it around her beer instead.

“Eh.” He shrugs, but Emma can see the grief on his face. “He hasn’t really been my father in a long time.”

“Still,” She tilts her head, and when Neal meets her eyes he crumbles just a bit. “I’m still sorry.”

He takes a long drink before he answers. “Me too. I thought we’d have more time, you know. Time to…” He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter I guess. I don’t want to talk about that right now. We missed out on our lunch yesterday.”

Emma doesn’t even know what to say to that. 

Her mind just feels jumbled, exhausted and wired at the same time, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Mary Margaret said that she “owed” it to herself to be happy, but who’s to say what would bring Emma happiness? 

Maybe seeing Henry happy and safe is all she needs. 

Neal’s words about fighting for their family still ring in her head, as do…other people’s declarations. But Emma needs to focus on the situation in front of her. 

Either way, words don’t mean much if they’re preceded by betrayal and abandonment and – and she’s saved by Henry sliding into the booth next to his dad, eyes bright.

Emma stretches her neck, trying to relieve the tension. These days it’s always present. 

She puts on a smile for her son, and the grin he returns is worth everything. 

It scares her sometimes, the fact that she would give up the world just to see Henry smile. And she’d almost lost that.

“Mom,” Henry’s mischievous tone pulls her out of the memory of his unmoving body. That’s right. He’s here, and safe, and clearly trying to get something out of her. Emma sighs and raises an eyebrow, willing herself to be present in this moment. “Can I have a sip?”

He’s pointing at her beer. “I…what? No?” Where did he even get an idea like that? Emma wants to feel outraged, but she’s mostly trying not to laugh. “Kid. You’re eleven. Nice try.”

Henry shakes his head, laughing now. “It was worth a shot. Hook said it tastes really good.”

It’s Neal’s turn to look outraged. “Hook told you that?”

“Did he offer you any?”

“Course not,” Henry scoffs. “I mean I’m only eleven.”

Emma turns back to the bar just in time to see Hook turning away from her and staring off into the distance, clearly trying to appear innocent. 

Part of her wants to march up to him and tell him off for corrupting her child, for daring to have that smug look on his face, for - looking like that – for – being the way that he is.

Very justified reasons to start an argument, Emma’s sure. 

But arguing with Hook means standing near him, and standing near him means watching the way his body sways towards her as he talks, like he can’t help it, and Emma’s too tired to get into any of it. 

So she just lets herself laugh and shake her head with faux disapproval at Henry. “I think that’s our cue to get you back home.”

Luckily Henry gets moving without a fight, clearly exhausted as well. He goes to make his goodbyes to Regina, and Neal reaches for Emma before she gets out of the booth.

“I know I tried this once, but –” Oh, how she hopes he won’t ask again. “Lunch? Tomorrow?”

“I have to be in the station tomorrow.” She and David hadn’t discussed a schedule, but Neal doesn’t need to know that. “Life goes on, you know.”

She slides out and grabs her coat and Neal gets up as well, still talking with that hopeful look on his face. “I’ll bring you food, then.”

It’s not the worst idea. Emma can’t help but feel weird, the idea of them meeting in the middle of the day in the busiest restaurant in town to talk about – who knows what. She has enough opinions coming her way from her parents, she doesn’t need Granny’s take on her love life.

Besides, there’s a good chance that Hook will be hanging around at some point, as this seems to be one of his new haunts, and Emma doesn’t want him to see…she’s not sure what, but the thought of Hook lounging at the bar while Neal and her take over a booth feels wrong. 

As she’s done for the past couple of weeks, she takes those feelings and stuffs them somewhere deep inside. 

No time, she tells herself. 

“Fine. I’ll try to make the time.”

Neal looks hopeful, a welcome sight considering all he’s lost recently. Emma wonders if he’s even processed Tamara. The thought makes her shiver with dread. 

They both have a lot to think about before…before they can get to whatever place Neal seems to want them to get to.

Emma doesn’t even know if that place exists. 

Henry returns with his jacket, and Emma steers him towards the door before Neal can offer to walk them back to the loft.

-

Despite her parents’ wishes, Emma returns to the sheriff’s station bright and early the next morning after dropping Henry off at Regina’s.

Emma knows she and Regina need to sit down at some point and work out a schedule, especially now that Neal is involved. 

Regina had also mentioned that she thought Emma should continue her practice with magic, which is just a whole new can of worms that Emma wants to ignore.

At least Regina is no longer hellbent on trying to get revenge on Mary Margaret and is instead channeling her energy into being an actual mayor again. 

Emma can take solace in knowing a drop-off at Regina’s house won’t end in someone’s heart getting ripped out. Hopefully.

She misses the kid already. They’d stayed up much later than she meant for them to, watching TV while Henry asked her about her time in Neverland. Emma tried to play up the more comedic moments to get a laugh, while glossing over most of the other ridiculousness that went on. 

Even after he fell asleep, Emma found herself awake and watching over him, trying not to feel like the most overprotective mom in the world. 

She tells herself it will get easier, that someday soon she won’t spend her morning commute imagining the worst case scenarios if Pan manages to make a reappearance.

Emma settles into her desk with a sense of belonging. She’s not sure when she came to love this job, but at least in here things still make some semblance of sense. Paperwork, while boring, is straightforward. 

The dwarves had taken over while she’d been in Neverland, and Happy and Doc stop by early to debrief her on all of the town’s happenings the last few weeks. 

By the time they go through it all, Emma realizes it’s certainly better for everyone that she and David are back in the saddle. Leroy’s way of keeping order definitely included some more medieval tactics that would have posed a problem if the sheriff’s station had an HR department.

It’s a slow morning, only the dwarve’s shoddy attempts at paperwork around to keep her mind off – well, everything. Luckily Sneezy’s chicken scratch proves quite the challenge to translate.

The buzzing of her phone startles her a few hours later. Emma has to groan when she sees a text from Neal, letting her know he’s on his way with food.

She leans back in her chair and looks around her tiny office, maybe for some sort of weapon she could use to injure herself. Nothing major, just enough to need a trip to Whale before Neal arrives. Anything to avoid talking about feelings.

Emma snorts at herself. Is she really that juvenile? Maybe this is the consequence of spending time with someone she hasn’t known since she was seventeen. She just reverts back into a dumb teenager. 

But it’s more than that. She tries to work it out in her mind. A talk with Neal is daunting because that means a talk about feelings. And she doesn’t want to talk about feelings because – 

Because she has no fucking clue how she feels. She’d said stuff in Neverland, stuff she meant, even if she felt awful for having to admit it. And Neal said his piece. 

They didn’t exactly seem to be on the same page.

Does she truly want to leave him behind? 

Neal pushes through the door before she can work that question out, and his arrival brings no answers. 

Just more turmoil in her stomach.

Emma moves from her office to the bullpen, pulling out a chair for Neal. She puts it at the other desk, feeling the need for some distance between them for whatever comes next.

“I got you grilled cheese, with fries.” He hands her the bag with a grin.

Emma blinks once. “Thanks.” She stuffs the sandwich into her mouth as soon as she sits down. Partly due to hunger, partly due to her reluctance to speak first.

Neal follows suit, chewing for a bit before pointing to the stacks of paper around them. “Busy day?”

Emma shrugs, trying to swallow her bite of grilled cheese. “A lot to catch up on. How’s yours been?”

“It’s alright,” Neal replies, staring into his BLT. “I’m helping Belle at the store right now. Thought she could use the company.”

The thought breaks her heart. As misguided as Gold was, Emma always felt calmer when Belle was with him. She’s a good soul. 

“Are you staying at his house?”

“God, no,” Neal shivers. “One of his properties is vacant, an apartment just down the street from the shop. I didn’t really feel right staying at the same room at Granny’s, after…”

“Tamara?” Emma supplies.

Neal nods with a grimace.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. She wasn’t who I thought she was.”

 _Wonder what that feels like,_ some petty sarcastic voice in Emma’s brain adds. 

Still. Neal might have been a liar, but at least he didn’t shoot her and leave her for dead. No, he just got her sent to prison. Much better. “Doesn’t mean you didn’t love her.”

Neal looks like he’s about to deny it, but he shuts his mouth, taking a sip from his soda instead. Emma’s glad he doesn’t. 

She still remembers his insistence that her instincts about Tamara were wrong, that he loved her, that Emma had to be projecting.

Hindsight is 20/20, she supposes. If someone had tried to explain that Neal would have left her before he did, she’d never have believed them. 

Love usually makes you do stupid things, like trust the people who can hurt you the most.

“I just…” She doesn’t even know where she’s going with this. “we’re all dealing with a lot right now. Maybe you more than anyone.”

“That’s true. Look,” Neal puts down his food and faces her fully. “I don’t know exactly how all this will work. But I want to be there for Henry.”

“I’m glad. He wants that too.” While she hasn’t gone over details with Regina, there was at least some understanding that Neal might be around for awhile. Henry’s not going to know what to do with all these parents vying for his attention.

“And as for us,” He gestures between the two of them, and here comes the sinking feeling in her gut. Emma’s not ready for this part. The part where he makes some sort of move, and she has to respond. The part where he asks, and she says…she doesn’t know what she’ll say. “I meant what I said in Neverland. I’m never gonna stop fighting for our family.”

“Neal, I-” She’s getting flustered, and he can tell.

“Look, I want to go on a date. Like, a real, proper date with you.”

Emma closes her eyes. “We didn’t even do that when we were first together.”

“I know, and,” he scoots his chair closer to her. He talks with his hands. Not quite as flamboyant as the pictures of Rumplestiltskin from Henry’s book, not quite as sinister as Gold’s movements, but Emma picks up on a resemblance. “And I should’ve done that for you. I should’ve done a lot of things. But maybe now’s the time for it. Maybe we can have a fresh start.”

A fresh start. Emma thinks back to the town line, that fake yet uncomplicated life she might have had. Now that’s a fresh start.

“I need to, god. I don’t know.” She shakes her head, sad that she already finished her sandwich because she has nothing to keep her mouth occupied. Her fries lay untouched in the paper bag. Emma wonders if she can fake an emergency call right now, just to run to Granny’s and grab some onion rings. She’s a little offended that Ruby even let Neal get fries if she knew the order was for Emma. “There’s just so much to think about.”

Neal furrows his brow, genuinely confused. “Like what?”

Like what? The question should be what _isn’t_ there to think about. “Let’s start with the fact that you were getting ready to marry someone and now you’re – what, just over her already?”

“I can’t explain it, Emma.”

She can. He’s in grief, he’s rebounding, and it doesn’t help that their business was always unfinished. 

Even though he had been the one to back out, it’s clear they both still suffered some damage from the fallout of their time together. 

It burns Emma. The fact Neal’s upset that they aren’t together right now, even though he was the one to make sure of that. It’s been her pain, her anger alone for so many years. She doesn’t feel like sharing it with the one who left her all alone.

She stands up, needing some distance between them. His eyes follow, but luckily he stays put, waiting for her to speak. 

But again, Emma doesn’t know what to say. Everyone in this town is giving her a headache except Henry.

And it all comes back to him, doesn’t it? Whatever is best for him. But Emma is no expert. She has no idea what’s really best for her kid. She’s just making all this up as she goes.

The shrill ring of the station phone makes them both jump. Saved by the bell. 

While Emma welcomes the interruption, the content of the call has her squeezing her eyes in dread. It’s a jogger, panicked in the woods. They found a body near the wishing well.

Where Pan’s curse started, if Emma had to guess. She kicks herself for not heading over there first thing this morning to check out the area. Pan may be gone, but who knows what he might have left behind.

She shifts into sheriff mode, all business as she contacts the EMT’s, and starts dialing David’s number. She’d begged him to take the day off, wanting the peace and quiet of the station all to herself, but she knows she’ll need him on the scene as well.

“Emma, can we please address this?” Neal asks. For a second she’d forgotten he was still in the room.

“No, actually.” She pauses to throw on her coat. “Right now we can’t. I have a job to do, Neal.”

He looks defeated, and for a second part of her wishes she didn’t have to leave, just so they could get to the bottom of everything in one fell swoop, because now this weird tension will continue until the next time they talk. “At least take your fries for the road?”

Emma’s already halfway out the door, but she turns to give him a sad smile. 

Somewhere deep within her, it feels like a small goodbye, even she can’t say it out loud quite yet. “No, thank you.”

-

It’s Felix. Emma had thought it might be. It was obvious where his loyalties lay, but she doubts he realized they’d take him to his death. 

She almost feels bad, but mostly she thinks about the lost boys, guessing they still viewed him as one of their leaders.

David is finishing up talking to the jogger as Emma watches Mother Superior give the guy one last lookover as the EMTs take him away. 

Emma was glad that Regina didn’t have to come out here to survey the scene and expose Henry to this mess. Instead Mother Superior volunteered to have a look around as magic consultant.

Emma laughs to herself. That might need to become an actual position in the department.

“So you think he was the sacrifice?” Emma asks as she approaches the nun. Or fairy, really, but Emma can’t quite commit to calling her that.

“Yes,” Mother Superior sighs, staring down into the well. “The boy’s heart was gone. It seems we were right, Pan cast the curse within the well.”

“Is there any…I don’t know, residual dangerous magic we need to worry about?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t believe so. Your magic overpowered it, thankfully.”

The nun leaves soon after she double checks the area. She gives Emma Tinkerbell’s number, as apparently she’s been acting as kind of a liaison for the lost boys that have been staying at the convent.

“Tinkerbell’s talking phone!” Emma has to pull the phone away from her ear as she’s greeted with a yell.

“Hi, yeah, it’s Emma. The. Sheriff.”

“Oh, right!” Tink’s still yelling. “What can I help you with?”

“You know you can talk at a normal pitch and I’ll hear you, right?”

“Really? Oh,” The fairy quiets down now. “Sorry Emma, Blue only gave it to me last night. It’s fascinating.”

Emma can’t help but smile at the thought of Tinkerbell trying to figure out how to use a phone. “Listen. We just found Felix’s body. Seems like Pan used him for the curse. I was hoping you could find a way to gather the lost boys? I can come break the news if you want, but –”

“No, I got it,” She hears Tink shuffling around. “I’ll get the Captain to help me out.”

“Who, Hook?” Emma’s suspicious. “Is he – is he there?”

“Well yes. It’s his ship, after all.”

So. Tink is with Hook. On his ship. Emma stares at the leaves under her feet. “Well. Yeah. However you can let them know, that would be great.”

Emma hears more shuffling, and a grumble that reminds her of how Hook sounded when she’d wake him up for his watch in Neverland, voice still groggy with sleep. 

She’s ready to get off the phone now. 

“Do you want to talk to him?” Tink asks.

“I’m fine.” It comes out slightly harsher than she’d meant. Emma sighs. It’s already been a long day, that’s all. “Thanks, Tink.”

The fairy signs off with an affirmative. Emma doesn’t have time to think through – well, anything, really. 

Because a body means a case, and no matter how open and shut, a case means paperwork.

She doesn’t refuse David’s offer to come back to the station with her. She doesn’t want to be left alone right now, doesn’t want to see where her train of thought might run off to next. 

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading 🌚🌝
> 
> here's my [tumblr!](https://sithsoupsnakes.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer!! if you started reading this fic when i posted the first chapter last week, then you'll realize that i just restructured my chapters to better split the emma and killian povs. so chapter 1 is now just emma's pov, and this chapter is what was originally the second half of chapter 1 (aka killian's pov)
> 
> but i'm about to post chapter 3 which is new!! lmao i'm so sorry this is confusing
> 
> i hope you enjoy!!!

-

It’s a few days after the end of Pan’s terrors that Killian finds Emma Swan sitting on a log near the docks, looking contemplative and all sorts of stunning in the late afternoon sun.

He’s making his way back from town where he spent an exhausting few hours catching up with Smee and Starkey, who hinted more than once at their interest in taking to the open seas once more. The discussion somehow ended with Killian agreeing to meet some of his crew for drinks at some local tavern, the “Rabbit” something, later this evening.

Killian supposes it’s the least he could do for abandoning his crew to this accursed town. 

All irritation is put aside the second he happens upon Emma, who seems too wrapped up in her thoughts to notice him.

“Swan? Doing alright?”

Emma whips her head up as he speaks. She doesn’t look completely annoyed at his presence, and Killian decides to take that as a small victory. 

She strains her neck, smile small and eyes still stormy. “Just…wanted some time alone, I guess.”

Killian could take that as a dismissal, but he figures he’ll give it one more chance. He’s always been a bit of a masochist. 

“Want some rum to keep you company?”

“That depends,” she replies with a half-smile. “I’m guessing the pirate captain is included?”

“If there’s one thing you should know about me, Swan,” he says as he sits down next to her, handing her his flask, “You’d be hard-pressed to find me parted from my own rum.”

“Guess I’ll take the chance.” Emma winces slightly after taking a swig. There seems to be quite a lot on her mind, but then again, Killian can’t remember the last time he saw her without some dilemma that’s been foisted upon her shoulders. 

Plenty of glory, yet no real reward, the life of a savior seems to be.

“I suppose the Charmings’ quarters get a bit cramped after awhile?”

Emma lets out a snort. “You have no idea.”

“Does that place even have any doors?”

“Barely. We’re just one big happy family in there.”

Killian shivers. As much as he seeks out company during the days, he’s always felt safe knowing he has his own cabin to return to, one that no one would dare enter without his permission. “There’s always room on the old girl if you need a change of scenery, love.”

“Let me guess, I can share the crew quarters with Smee?”

Killian laughs at the image. “I could kick him out for you.”

“Always the gentleman.”

“You know it.”

“No, I just…I like living with my parents, but they can be a little…”

“Overbearing?”

Emma nods as she takes another drink. “They mean well, but there’s just so much to deal with, and I don’t know. Just needed a little break.”

Killian furrows his brow. He and Tink had addressed the Lost Boys yesterday about Felix, at Emma’s request, apparently. He’d heard Tink yelling on his deck while he’d been holed up in his cabin, planning for the repairs the Jolly still needs. 

Of course the fairy had powered off her device before he had a chance to say anything to Emma, even if it was just to imply that he and Tink were spending quality time together. Killian’s never above pushing Swan’s buttons.

The troubled look on her face, however, has him worried that Pan has done more than leave a body behind. “Anything I can do to help?”

“What?”

“I don’t know, patrol, or something? I know my way around a sword.”

Emma pauses, looking confused. “Oh, I –” She frowns. “Nothing…savior related. Just personal stuff.”

“Ah.” The name Neal is on the tip of his tongue, but Killian holds back. Even though he meant his words to Neal, Kilian’s not ready just yet to see the two of them play happy family, if that’s where things are headed. He sits up, hand gesturing out to the view in front of them, all false bravado that Emma is sure to see through. “Well, my advice would be to find the most beautiful ship in the realm and sail off into the sunset. No need to solve your problems when they’re on the other side of the sea.”

Emma rolls her eyes with a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she responds sarcastically.

The sun is starting to set, and Killian finds himself almost content in the moment. 

The sea is soothing anywhere, no matter how strange the realm might be. 

He knows the moment will end soon, that Swan will return to her loved ones, and he’ll be alone once more, but he lets himself indulge in the feeling for now.

“Why haven’t you done that then?” Emma’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts.

“Done what?”

She points to the horizon. “Sailed off into the sunset?”

Killian wants to scoff, wants to roll his eyes, wants to bring his hand to her cheek and remind her of the times he laid himself bare in Neverland, of that brief moment between the two of them before she broke Pan’s curse. 

He wants to remind her that he meant every word of it, then and now. 

Killian Jones is in this for the long haul, and he’s anything but a quitter. 

But when he looks back at Emma, he spies a fragility behind those eyes. Despite all that strength she holds, she’s as breakable as anyone else. 

And Killian gets the sense if he says exactly what he’s thinking, it might just be too much. For both of them. 

So he channels that reckless energy into a light chuckle. “I may not know much about this land, but I’ve gleaned that I might not find the same sort of success in piracy here that I did in the Enchanted Forest.”

“True. Modern pirates don’t seem to have your…” she turns more fully to look him up and down. Even though Killian hears her teasing tone, he revels in the feeling of her eyes on him. “…flare for the dramatic.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Swan.” Killian plays along with a raise of his eyebrows.

Emma looks like she wants to say more, her gaze still playful, but she opts to shake her head and look back out at the view.

“Is that the only reason? Worried about your chance at glory?”

Killian sighs, feeling like they’re still venturing into dangerous territory. “Maybe I’d like to see what Storybrooke has to offer, is that so hard to believe?”

“No, I just…didn’t think you were the type to stay in one place so long.”

“Speaking from experience?” A tight smile is all he gets in response, so he continues on. “I suppose I’ll just have to find some new use for my skills now that a certain crocodile has gone and offed himself without my help.”

Emma’s eyes close at that, half-pained and half-smiling. “He did save everyone by doing that.”

“No, no,” Killian sighs. “I’m well aware. How are Belle and… Neal taking things?”

The name makes her tense up just a bit, just as Killian had dreaded. So whatever is weighing on her mind does involve him. “As well as they can, I think. I don’t know, it’s just all so messy right now.”

“Well. At least you have some time to…work all that out without some wretched villain getting in the way.”

“Please, don’t jinx anything,” Emma replies with a small laugh. “And is that your way of saying I won’t need to be locking you up anytime soon?”

“I knew you liked seeing me tied up.” She glares at him but Killian keeps talking before she can tell him off. “But come on, Swan. I can play the part of upstanding citizen.”

“I somehow doubt that,” she replies with a wry smile, seeming just a bit lighter than when he’d first encountered her on the log, and Killian lets himself feel some measure of pride about that. 

That in his presence, she didn’t completely shut down. 

Baby steps, Killian reminds himself. He’s always excelled at the long game. 

Emma soon drinks the last of the rum, and Killian is tense for a few moments, waiting for that impending goodbye.

Emma, however, surprises him by not moving, and instead handing the flask back over to him. “Well? Tell me that’s not the last of your supply.”

“Never.” He tries not to smile too big at the implication that she might stick around for awhile as he pulls out his backup flask from one of his many jacket pockets.

They sit for much longer than he anticipated, his vague plans with his crew long forgotten. 

Killian suspects Emma might be delaying some meeting as well, by the way she stares grimly at her device for a moment, but she doesn’t offer, and he doesn’t ask. 

Killian will take whatever he can get.

The sun sets and the dock is soon lit up with floodlights, a small detail of this world’s technology that still amazes Killian. The conversation remains light as the flask passes between the two of them. 

He doesn’t purposely try to brush his fingers against Emma’s, as he hands her the rum, but he doesn’t pull away immediately, and neither does she. 

It’s just a moment, so quick that he could very well be imagining things, but that spark feels just as electric as it did in Neverland, maybe even more so now.

Later, when Emma is long gone and Killian lies alone in his cabin, the memory of that brief touch warms him more than any liquor could.

-

Killian stares up at the imposing sign above the pawn shop. Smee has been dying to get his red cap back, which he believes the Dark One was holding hostage in his shop during his time as a rodent.

Smee had regaled him early this morning with tales of surviving on scraps before he was able to get the blue fairy to poof him back into human form, but Killian found his mind wandering back to the night before, to Emma’s soft goodbye and a smile that seemed to be a thank you of some sort.

Unfortunately due to Killian’s disinterest in Smee’s story, he somehow agreed to accompany his first mate to the pawn shop to retrieve the lost hat. 

Killian had tried to explain that neither Belle or Baelfire would try to harm him, but Smee wouldn’t hear it, believing some of the rumors going around town that Rumplestiltskin’s powers could very well have been passed down to his son.

So now Killian finds himself dragging his feet, dreading whatever interactions might be waiting for him inside his old enemy’s shop.

Of course, both Belle and Baelfire – or Neal, rather, are in the shop when Killian shuffles in behind Smee. The four of them all pause once the bell is done ringing, each seemingly recalling their various shared histories. 

Killian winces at the knowledge that most of their memories must involve him wronging them in some way, Smee included. Just another reason to have never gotten out of bed today.

“Well Smee? We’re here for a reason, aren’t we?” Killian asks, more confident than he feels.

That puts the man into action, scurrying to the front desk where Belle and Neal wear grim faces. “I’m looking for my-my hat? I think Mr. Gold took it, after he- well you know.”

Belle nods understandingly, a look of pity now gracing her face, but Neal tilts his head in confusion. “Did what?”

Smee mumbles, still nervous being in his presence, so Killian feels the need to take over. “Turned him into a rat. Or…mouse, or something. But it’s all forgotten, right Mr. Smee?” He asks, making his tone clear that his first mate should agree. 

No need to upset the boy – _man now,_ Killian reminds himself, further so near his father’s death.

Smee nods as Neal rolls his eyes and offers his apologies on his father’s behalf, which seems to ease the man’s nerves slightly. 

Belle offers to take Smee to the back to search through some of the clothes, and Killian finds himself alone with Neal, wanting desperately to make his excuses and be on his way.

He’s about to do just that when Neal clears his throat. “You doing well?”

Killian looks around the shop, absently wondering about the meanings and origins of some of the pieces scattered around. 

Most of them are probably full of histories as painful and bloody as the souvenirs he himself has taken to keeping aboard his ship. The comparison leaves a bitter taste in Killian’s mouth. 

“Better than ever,” he states with a too bright smile. “Just about done cleaning the stench of that wretched island off my ship, thank the gods.”

Neal nods, eyes twinkling at Killian’s attempt to lighten the mood. It leaves him with a strange feeling, some sort of pride at still having the ability to make the boy laugh, despite everything unsaid between them. “Glad to hear it.”

The silence overtakes the room again, so quiet that Killian can hear Smee and Belle still rummaging around in the back. 

He knows what he should say, but he fears the words would be disingenuous coming from his mouth. Still, he has to try.

“I’m sorry, Bae. About your father.” The words come out raspier than he’d meant, sorrow bubbling up for the boy he once cared for, knowing how much turmoil he must be facing, given the relationship he had with his father. 

Killian knows from experience, some wounds never heal properly.

Neal seems to pick up on his sincerity, nodding once before turning away and busying himself with some trinkets that lie on the counter. A futile distraction, given the way his shoulders sag. “I- it was complicated, what we had. Guess you’d know that better than anybody.”

“And how is the Lady Belle handling it?”

Neal shakes his head, eyes glistening. “She’s struggling, I guess you could say.”

He can’t help his next words, Milah’s face flashing before his eyes when she’d speak of how she missed her son. “If you ever need anything…well. You know where you can find me.”

He gets a nod in response, Neal seeming to contemplate the idea. “Henry had mentioned how cool it would be to sail your ship again, if you’re not too busy?”

Killian nods, glad that he might have a chance to promote some father-son bonding. That was why he’d conceded to Neal in the first place, after all. A man can only split up so many families before it takes a toll. “I’ve always got time for the boy. Just come find me whenever you’re interested.”

“Man,” Neal laughs, “You should really think about getting a phone.”

Killian groans, recalling how Emma had teased him last night about the same thing. 

He’s only been in this world for so long, and he feels some sense of pride at his inability to be reached by the little pinging that everyone around him seems such a slave to. “Or maybe the rest of you should invest in a better bird courier service.”

Neal lets out a laugh, but before he can respond they’re interrupted by a sound of triumph from the back, confirming Belle and Smee have located the cap. 

“Do you think –” Neal’s face scrunches for a moment with that same despondent look he wore so many years ago when Killian revealed how Milah truly perished. That look is gone in a second as the man in front of him steels himself once more. “The way he died… it seemed so strange.”

Killian holds his breath. He had barely dared to let himself go down that road, though he’d had the same thought when they watched the Dark One sacrifice himself in front of them. 

He hadn’t spent hundreds of years learning about the darkness to not figure out what is supposed to happen when a Dark One passes on. 

That much evil can never just vanish out of the world with no repercussions. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Neal lowers his voice at the sound of Belle and Smee approaching, rushing his words now. “No body, no dagger? Belle was saying…”

“That could be a very dangerous road to go down.”

“But what if it means something?” Neal looks a little reckless now.

Killian knows he should nip these thoughts in the bud. And more than that, he knows, by the look on Neal’s face, that this is the first he’s saying this out loud, meaning he hasn’t told Emma or anyone else. 

This is one secret Killian wants no part in, not when those eyes, the eyes of a lost boy, are pleading with him. 

“It means he died. He sacrificed himself for everyone. It means in the end he did the right thing. And so should you.”

Belle and Smee are coming back through the curtain now, but Killian knows he’s already made a mistake by not disagreeing outright with the denial of the crocodile’s death. He rushes Smee through the rest of his business, eager to get out of the dank shop. 

But by the look in Neal’s eyes as Killian goes to leave, he knows this is far from over.

-

Granny’s seems as good a place as any to drown his sorrows. 

He’d been wrangled into visiting the Rabbit Hole yesterday after Smee was reunited with his hat, but Killian finds Granny’s the more preferable spot. He had been pleasantly surprised to learn that the old woman appreciates good liquor more than most. 

And the fact that he can usually catch a glimpse of Emma might also play a role in his choice.

Granny has grumbled at Killian’s prolonged presence on her barstool the past few afternoons, but today she leaves him the bottle. He decides to take it as a sign of affection. 

After all, he knows he leaves more than his share of gold every night when it’s time to settle his tab.

His slow descent into his cups gets rudely interrupted by the Charming family entering. He turns his head just enough to see Snow, Henry, and the Queen, followed closely by David. 

The fact that Emma - _and Neal_ \- his traitorous mind supplies, are missing makes his blood boil. His next swig goes down easier than ever.

He manages to drown out the rest of the diner and instead focus on the tumbler he’s dragging across the bar. 

He goes to pour himself another drink from the bottle when a glass is placed down next to him, the prince holding it in his hand with grin.

Killian fill his glass with reluctance. “This is my personal supply, I’ll have you know.” David raises his eyebrows at Killian’s claim as Granny steps behind the bar. “Isn’t that right, Lady Lucas? You get it special for me?”

Granny narrows her eyes, but she’s yet to kick him out whenever he’s taken to needling her this past week. “As long as those coins keep coming,” she replies with a wag of her finger. She’s rushing to the back before he can try to charm her again.

“Seems you’ve made yourself quite at home here, Hook,” David says before taking a sip of the rum. He winces in the same way that Emma does. 

The thought has Killian downing the rest of his glass and pouring another.

“Does that upset you?”

“No, not at all.” David almost seems to mean it, to the surprise of both of them. “Just as long as you’re not planning on trying to pillage your way through the town.”

Killian sighs dramatically, tipping his glass towards the prince. “There go my weekend plans.” He delights in the way David’s face hardens before he finally registers the sarcasm in Killian’s voice. So serious, the hero types are.

“Fine then. Mary Margaret and I were wondering if you’d like to join us for dinner.” Killian wants to groan again at how bitterly he doles out the invitation, and he just knows his wife was the one to push him into it. 

The theory is confirmed when he turns towards their table in the corner to see the princess grinning expectantly at them.

Killian half considers the offer, before he remembers two very important facts. For one, he’s already spent far too much time in Neverland sleeping in close quarters with the Charming’s and Regina, and another insipid speech about hope and happy endings at the dinner table might have him retching over the lot of them. 

Besides, even from halfway across the diner he can sense the tension still lingering between queen and Snow. 

The more important fact is that he would then be suffering through a dinner with Emma’s dysfunctional family while the woman herself is likely having the time of her life with his one-time ward.

The entire thought process leaves Killian feeling green, and his mind is made up. Better another night alone on the Jolly than this. “Sorry mate, as nice as a Neverland reunion sounds, I’ve got a date with my lady love.” 

He foists his half-empty bottle into his elbow and drops a handful of doubloons onto the counter, tapping to get Lady Lucas’ attention before he makes his goodbyes to David. 

He finds that today, he hates this town with a passion.

-

Killian takes to singing one of his favorite sea shanties as he meanders back to the docks, stopping occasionally to drink deeply from the bottle. He’s once again glad that his crew haven’t taken it upon themselves to move back into their quarters.

Smee had hinted at the idea again yesterday at the tavern, that he and the others were starting to get antsy about getting back out on the open ocean, but Killian left his questions unanswered.

By the time he reaches the Jolly Roger, he’s more than ready to drink himself into a dreamless sleep. He’ll be up early again tomorrow for more repairs.

His plans are put on pause when he notices the two figures pacing along his deck. But Killian has always found he has a bit more fun brandishing his cutlass when he’s tipsy, so he pulls it out as he runs aboard.

“Woah woah, Hook!” Neal yells out. He and Belle look at least slightly peeved when they put their hands up at the sight of Killian, bottle of rum still tucked into his left elbow. “It’s just us.”

Killian rolls his eyes as he lays down his weapon. “What the hell are you two doing here?”

“We’re here to see you,” Belle says firmly, still looking slightly nervous in his presence. 

He should really apologize, but he also recognizes how meaningless that might sound to her. 

After all, he’d mostly viewed her as a pawn in his game with the crocodile, just another possession of the Dark One, one that was easy to maim. A lesser person would have killed him by this point.

“Right. Well, here I am.” He makes his way to head down the steps to his cabin. “Feel free to see yourselves out.”

“Hook, wait.” Neal puts out a hand, those eyes pleading again. Milah’s eyes, little Bae’s eyes. How many times can he disappoint them both? “We need your help.”

And with that, Killian knows he was right about his worries from the day before. 

Had the proposition been made to him just weeks ago, he would have easily thrown them off his ship without another thought. 

But apparently a lovely vacation with the woman of his affections and her heroic parents had a way of rubbing off on him, reminding Killian that some hard things might be worth doing.

“Fine.” He lowers himself onto the steps to the quarter deck, predicting he’ll need to be sitting down for whatever the crocodile’s loved ones have to say. “I thought you were with-” he stops his question to Neal before the name can pass his lips. What Emma gets up to is her own business. “Just get on with it.”

Belle starts. “Neal and I were talking, and we think there might be more to Rumple’s death.”

He closes his eyes, the last sliver of hope for a quiet evening vanishing before him. 

Why couldn’t they be here asking his advice on how to spruce up Rumplestiltskin’s home now that they no longer had to live under his thumb? Killian likes to think he has a good sense of design.

“And we figured,” Neal adds, “Since you spent a lot of time researching… Dark One lore, you might have some insights.”

Killian squints at the two of them, both adrift in their grief. And to think, all this for man as undeserving as Rumplestiltskin. 

“I did look into how I could kill a Dark One, but I was never too interested in how to resurrect one from the dead.” He can’t help but spit out his last words in disgust.

“Hook,” Neal sighs. “I know you’re holding back on something. Just tell us.”

Killian would wager that he has more knowledge on dark magic than most, considering he doesn’t dabble in the arts himself. 

While he will admit he spent some of his trips off Neverland indulging in every vice imaginable, just to numb himself before Pan called him back for some unholy reason, he also gathered any and all information he could. 

Killian remembers the times he’d go days without sleeping, pouring over pages of magical theory he could only half understand. It was like some uncontainable rage would overtake him, refusing to rest until he found something, anything useful to his quest. 

His crew seemed to fear him more in that state than they ever did when he brandished his hook and ordered them to take no prisoners.

But Killian’s truly not sure what to make of Rumplestiltskin’s death. “All I know for certain, is that typically, a Dark One can only die when they are stabbed with their own dagger. The darkness, and all that comes with it, then passes to the perpetrator.” Neither Belle or Neal look satisfied. “I’ve never heard of a Dark One taking their own life. So who knows what that means.”

Neal leans against the mast, less hopeful than before. Belle, however, remains determined. “Maybe because no one ever believed that a Dark One could sacrifice themselves like that. Maybe his act of goodness vanquished the darkness altogether.”

Killian still feels like there’s plenty of darkness left in the world, but he keeps that point to himself for now. 

“Either way, that still means he’s dead. But at least you can take solace in knowing his last act was one of selflessness.” One good thing after a lifetime of blood, what a hero. Although Killian supposes many would apply the same judgement to him.

“But I still feel like I’m missing something,” Belle huffs.

Neal offers her a conciliatory smile. “Are you sure there’s nothing else that could help us, Hook?”

“Look. Like I said, I was more interested in weapons that could destroy him, rather than researching what happens to a Dark One’s psyche when it’s time to confront their deadbeat immortal father.” Killian supposes he deserves the glares he gets for that. 

“Besides, it soon became clear to me that whenever a lead would appear that could give me answers to his destruction, the crocodile would get there first and take it for himself. The only one more interested in learning about the darkness than I, was him. I’m sure his manor is filled to the brim with everything I would need to kill him.”

Belle lights up at his words. “That’s it! His castle must have the answers!”

Killian looks between the two of them. “Yes, I would suspect so. Too bad it’s in the Enchanted Forest. And we’re – wherever we are.”

“We’re in Maine,” Neal supplies.

“Right. Maine. Do you see the problem, love?” Killian tries to be gentle with his question.

Belle, however, still remains undeterred. “Exactly. So all we need is a magic bean.”

Killian leans back onto the steps, longing for his bed just a few feet below. “And as we all know, we used the last one to get to Henry.”

Belle doesn’t answer for a moment, seeming to size Killian up before she speaks. “And what if I told you Anton had managed to save another sprout?”

Both Killian and Neal perk up at that. “How many people know about this?” Neal asks.

“Well…” Belle looks sheepish, and Killian guesses this information was meant to stay between a select few. “Myself, David and Mary Margaret, and the dwarves. And now you two. And Mary Margaret wants to tell Regina. And Emma. And Granny and Ruby.”

Killian scoffs. “Worst kept secret in all of Storybrooke, I reckon,” he mumbles under his breath as Belle starts listing what supplies she’ll need to bring on this potential journey. “You can’t actually be serious about doing this, can you?”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

Killian stands, bracing for his delivery of a harsh truth. “I get that you miss him. And I am sorry. Truly, to both of you. But isn’t the ‘end of darkness’ a good thing? Shouldn’t we just leave well enough alone? Let his death be worth it. Go…make something of it, I don’t know.”

“Him killing the darkness doesn’t mean he deserved to die. He should be here right now, with us,” Belle’s voice breaks. 

If anything, Killian can recognize and respect the ferocity with which she fights for her love, even in the face of death. Killian can’t blame her, even if he thinks her feelings are misguided.

He thinks back to just a few days ago when he faced the reality of saying goodbye to Emma forever. Even now that they’re safe, that sense of hopelessness haunts him. 

He thinks back further, to Milah’s last moments. If there had been even a chance of resurrection, would he have acted any different than Belle is now?

“Even so, do you really think the rest of them will be on board with your plan?” Killian asks. “I’m sorry to say, but I get the sense that the Dark One wasn’t considered Storybrooke’s golden boy.”

“Hook’s right, Belle. There’s no way anyone would agree to this.”

Belle sighs. “I know. But maybe I can frame it as more of a research mission. I just, I need to understand what happened to him.”

“Me too. But there’s no point in even worrying about this until the beans are grown,” Neal says as he reaches out to Belle and gives her a reassuring pat on the back. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Wonderful. Now can you vacate my ship?” Killian says with a gesture towards the dock.

Belle doesn’t move yet. “So you’ll help us? Help us convince them to use a bean?”

Killian knows an olive branch when he sees one. He’s aware he could deny her, and she would most likely succeed on her own without his assistance. 

But he also knows she’s hurting, in a way only some can understand. 

Killian had sought exile and darkness in his grief. He supposes it’s only fitting he aid Belle in a more noble cause, given all the harm he’d caused her and Baelfire over the years. “I don’t know how much help I can be, at least with that crowd.”

Belle narrows her eyes, clearly not satisfied. “That wasn’t an answer.”

“I…” Killian wonders if now’s the time to apologize for all that pesky attempted murder business. Maybe she’ll leave him alone if he makes it sincere enough. He looks at his feet, just slightly ashamed for the thought. “I’ll try.”

She mulls over his words, and finally nods with a kinder smile. “Good. Then I’ll see you soon.”

With that she marches off the ship, but Neal stops before he reaches the steps. “I’m assuming you get we want to keep this between the three of us for now?” 

It’s a question that didn’t need asking, but Killian can read between the lines. The ‘don’t tell Emma’ gets left unsaid, and it leaves him with a churning in his gut.

“Fine.” Before Killian can think better of it, he calls out again. “I just don’t understand why you’re doing this. You spent lifetimes running from him. Do you really want him back?”

Neal runs a hand over his face. If Killian’s honest, there are moments when Neal looks even older than himself. 

But that just leaves Killian with another wave of guilt. He’d been the one to condemn the boy to that island, after all. And before that, he’d been key to the boy being left alone with his father.

“I don’t know. I feel so lost right now,” Neal half-whispers. And just like that, Killian sees the eyes of the boy again. “But, maybe if I can help Belle, maybe I’ll feel closer to him. I think my papa would like that; if I’m there for her.”

“So you don’t think he’s still alive?” Killian asks.

“Hell if I know,” Neal shrugs. “But I get the sense she’ll find some answers, even if they aren’t the ones she wants. And I guess I’d like to see what they are.”

Killian nods. While he’s still uneasy with this whole clandestine meeting on his ship situation, he’s glad to know Neal is staying somewhat practical. Henry and Emma don’t need to lose him again, this time to a quest with no answers. 

“Just be careful, mate. Don’t miss out on the living while you’re seeking the dead.”

And Killian knows better than most that chasing after ghosts usually leads to nothing but smoke.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading sorry for being confusing?? hope u enjoyed 🌝
> 
> here's my tumblr! [tumblr](https://sithsoupsnakes.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🌝

Emma is avoiding things.

To be fair, life in Storybrooke has continued over the past few weeks, and the town is still very much in need of a sheriff.

Maybe not so in need that Emma has to stay late at the station every night Henry’s not with her, but her parents don’t need to know all that.

Mary Margaret must be onto her, though, because this morning she had essentially begged Emma to take a break and join her for lunch at Granny’s. 

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages!” Mary Margaret says as they slide into the booth closest to the back.

“I just saw you this morning.”

Her mom narrows her eyes. “You know what I mean. We’ve barely talked.”

“Well…we’ve all been busy,” Emma says as she runs her eyes over the menu. “You and David, especially.”

It’s not that she doesn’t want to spend time with David and Mary Margaret, because she does.

But ever since they decided they wanted to try for another baby, well, Emma’s glad for the times when she and her dad work opposite schedules. She’s doing them a favor, really.

Her mom has the good sense to wince at that. “Oh god. I’m sorry.”

“Stop it,” Emma snorts. “I’m…happy for you guys. You deserve this.”

Mary Margaret nods with grateful smile.

“Just…remember to text? You almost made me ruin Henry’s morning a couple days ago. Again.”

“Yeah, I’ll-” Mary Margaret laughs into her hands. “I’ll do that.”

“Maybe I should look into…you know. Getting a place for myself.”

Mary Margaret pulls a face at her suggestion, like Emma thought she might. But they can’t keep going on like this forever. It’s already cramped on the nights when Henry’s there, and the addition of a potential newborn could drive them all up the wall.

“I like having you nearby, though.”

“Mom,” Emma counters with a smile. It still shocks her sometimes, that she has people who are desperate to have her around. People who love her. “I’m sure I could find a place within, like, five minutes of the loft.”

“I know, I know,” Mary Margaret sighs as she reaches to squeeze Emma’s hand. “But let’s not worry about that right now? I like our cramped little set up.”

Emma laughs. Somehow, despite all the craziness, she kind of likes it too. Except for when her parents need their ‘alone time.’

Ruby stops by to take their order, and they end up chatting with her for a few minutes. She’s soon pulled away by Granny, but not before promises for a girls’ night are made.

Once they’re alone, Mary Margaret shoots her a look. That raised eyebrow, judgmental, ‘we need to talk’ type look.

“As I was saying, I’ve barely seen you.”

“I’ve been-”

“Busy, I know,” her mom finishes for her. “You forget, I know you, Emma. I don’t think I’m lying when I say you’ve been a little…avoidant lately. Of certain things.”

Emma frowns at that. A lifetime of only having to look out for yourself means having to make some adjustments once you have people in your life ready to call you our on your bullshit.

“Didn’t think you’d caught that.”

Besides. She’s not avoiding her real responsibilities. Yesterday she’d had a pretty productive meeting with Regina, free from threats of revenge and only a few snide comments thrown her way.

They’re still working out the details of Henry’s schedule seeing as he’s about to get back to school, but the atmosphere between them has certainly improved since Neverland.

When the topic had moved on to Regina’s offer to train her in magic, Emma froze up again. She knows it would be good for the town for her to have some handle on her powers, just in case, but she’s – she’s scared.

It’s an addictive and terrifying feeling, that electricity that rushes through her. She’d managed to fend Regina off this time, excuses about needing to stay focused on town safety efforts after Pan’s curse scare, but Emma knows at some point she’ll have to address it.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” her mom sighs.

Emma reaches out this time to squeeze her hand.

“Thank you. And I am, I just…” she trails off. Where to begin?

If only her magic was the only topic that needs addressing. Neal hasn’t pushed further since their lunch got cut short, but that might have something to do with the fact that she only tries to spend time with him when Henry’s also there.

A temporary measure, she tells herself. Besides, Henry has been loving the time spent with his dad.

Apparently today they’re taking out the Jolly Roger with Hook. Emma almost wanted to take off work and join them, just to make sure Hook isn’t filling her son’s head with dreams of becoming a goddamn pirate.

She hates how much Henry enjoys his company.

And she hates even more how Neal and Hook are apparently best friends now, all past differences put aside.

Two nights ago Emma had passed by the library on her way home to see the two of them coming out, deep in conversation.

They spotted her and stopped talking before she could hear, and Neal had eagerly brought up his plan to bring Henry sailing, Hook grinning along like they were one big happy family. Emma had agreed, mostly to get out of the weirdness of seeing them get along.

The last time the three of them were together, the tension was unbearable between Hook and Neal.

And yet somehow in the past two weeks, they’d gone from literally fighting over her to being library buddies. And now apparently sailing buddies too.

“Look, Emma. There’s some…” Mary Margaret takes a cursory glance around the diner before lowering her voice, “things we should talk about.”

Emma narrows her eyes. This conversation seems more serious than just a talk about feelings.

“What’s going on?”

“Anton and the dwarves are trying to grow beans again,” her mom whispers.

“Oh. _Oh_. So you’re- you guys still want to go back?”

Mary Margaret sighs. “I don’t know anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Even if they’re able to harvest some, what if someone else comes along and steals them? Things didn’t exactly go well last time.”

Emma nods, trying to think this through. “At least Regina won’t be the culprit this time.” She pauses. “Have you told her?”

“I’m planning on it, later today,” Mary Margaret replies, face drawn. She’s been taking a more active role in Storybrooke politics since they’ve gotten back, sort of a deputy mayor, but things are still tense between her and Regina. “I don’t want to keep her out of the loop again.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Emma shrugs. “But what’s different now? You and David seemed so set on returning before…everything.”

“We almost lost you, Emma. Forever. The thought of that happening again,” her mom shivers, the memory seeming to replay in her mind. “We can’t put ourselves in that position.”

Emma wants to say more, but Ruby returns with the food. The two of them eat in silence for a few minutes. Emma chews slowly as she thinks of what her mom asked her so long ago, if she would come with them to the Enchanted Forest.

Even though she’s been there, the thought of relocating her life to a magical land still sounds a little too surreal.

But she doesn’t want her parents to stay put just for her sake. “I mean, what if they’re able to get a good crop? Then there could be some type of, I don’t know, open transit situation?”

“Like an Enchanted Forest Customs and Border Protection?”

They both snort at the idea, but it’s not completely ridiculous. If travel between realms does open up, Emma gets the sense there could be plenty of trouble brought along with that.

Mary Margaret gets serious again. “But what if something happens while we’re split between worlds? Or what if I do get pregnant? Our old realm isn’t exactly leading in healthcare.”

“Mom, look.” Emma grabs her mom’s hand, trying to calm her increasingly panicked tone. “Like you said. Who knows if they’ll even be able to harvest the beans? Let’s just…deal with it as it comes, okay?”

“You’re right. I just don’t want our family to have to keep fighting to find each other. I’m ready to live.”

Emma knows the feeling. But she also understands that she’s the savior, and her fate might not be so peaceful as the one she wants for her parents and Henry.

She gives her mom another squeeze before returning to her food.

“So now can we talk about Neal?”

Emma almost chokes on her next bite. “Nice try. No thanks, though.”

“It seems like he and Henry are really bonding,” Mary Margaret plows on. “That must be nice to see.”

“It is. I’m glad Henry has his dad.”

She’s trying to be as diplomatic as possible, though part of her would like to scream in frustration in the middle of Granny’s.

“They’re spending the day together?”

“Yep,” Emma responds through a mouthful of food. “Going sailing on the Jolly Roger.”

“Is that safe?”

“Think so, Neal said Hook is done with major repairs from Neverland. Now it’s just superficial stuff he’s working on.”

Neal had at least made sure to clarify that when she dropped Henry off with him this morning.

“No, I mean with Hook. Is he safe?”

“Hook?” Emma asks with a laugh. “Yeah, of course. What would he do?”

“Emma,” Mary Margaret admonishes. “It wasn’t so long ago we were worried about him trying to kill us.”

“And it was even more recently that he helped us save Henry, or did you forget that?” Emma rolls her eyes. She hates having to defend him, but she can’t help it: somewhere along the way, they reached some sort of understanding. Some might even call it trust, but whatever it is, Emma knows Hook would keep Henry safe.

“Of course I didn’t forget. But he’s still a pirate,” Mary Margaret says with that slightly judgmental tilt of her head.

_Yeah, that I am._ That’s what he’d replied when Emma said those same words to him in the jungle. She was taken aback at how vulnerable he’d looked in the moment. It had thrown Emma, in the way that only some can throw her.

Every time she thinks she has him pinned down, every time she’s convinced they’ve reached the moment where Hook will be exactly the man she suspects him to be, he does something completely unexpected. Like take her son and his father sailing.

He never asked to take her sailing.

Emma banishes the irritation with a shake of her head. It’s not like she’d say yes if he did.

“Whatever,” she finally responds with a tight smile. “Neal seems perfectly alright with it, so I’m not worried.”

Mary Margaret’s eyes widen with hope. “So you trust Neal’s judgment?”

Of course that’s what her mother would take from that.

“I trust that hanging out on a pirate ship will make Henry happy. And that’s all I really care about.”

“If you say so.”

-

Henry keeps her updated all day through text, sending her pictures of the view or the new knot Hook taught him to tie. If Emma’s honest, it’s the most engaged Henry’s seemed since Neverland, like a day on the water has lifted some of that weight from his shoulders.

Emma almost tears up on her way in her office when Henry sends a selfie of him and Neal from the ship, his smile big and carefree. She pouts briefly at the accompanying text asking her to pick them up and have Neal join them for dinner tonight, but she knows she can’t say no.

Time flies quickly for the rest of her shift after that, half of her mind mulling over how to come across as unbothered as possible when she faces Neal and Hook, and the better half of her mind itching with excitement to hear about Henry’s day.

The sun is low in the sky by the time Emma reaches the docks. She’s struck by how beautiful the Jolly Roger looks against the horizon, swayed gently by the tide.

Not that Emma has any interest in a sunset sail. It’s just that she can see the appeal, on a day as nice as today.

“Mom!” Henry all but runs to her as she approaches the ship. “You won’t believe how many sea monsters Hook has killed.”

Emma snorts. “Do I need to contact the Enchanted Forest equivalent of PETA?”

“Come on, Henry,” Neal almost whines as he walks off the ship. “There’s no way that man-horse-eel thing is real.”

“I heard that, and I assure you, that ‘thing’ was far too real, and a nasty foe at that,” Hook calls across the ship, securing some ropes before making his way down with Smee. Emma narrows her eyes. Smee is relatively harmless compared to some people in town, but that doesn’t mean she wants him hanging around her kid.

She turns her glare to Neal. “Couldn’t have mentioned Mr. Smee was joining you guys today?”

Neal looks sheepish, opening his mouth to answer before Hook swaggers off the ship with his hand raised. “Apologies, Swan. This was my doing. I had some business I needed to attend to with my first mate this morning, and well,” he gestures with a grin to the Jolly. “I couldn’t very sail off without him.”

“Again, Captain,” Smee adds on under his breath.

Hook leaves him with a firm slap on the back before turning back to more rigging that apparently needs his attention. “You’d best be off, right Smee?”

The pirate starts scurrying down the dock. Emma feels slightly bad for thinking it, but he does have some rodent-like tendencies. She wonders if they existed before his time as a rat, or if he adopted them during his transformation.

Before she can think on it too much longer, Neal follows Smee down the dock. Henry has started telling her about the different sails on the ship, but Emma’s focus is mostly on the way Neal is speaking under his breath to Hook’s first mate.

“…find that book?”

“If I can, but most tomes that rare might not have come over with the curse,” Smee responds.

“Keep looking. Hook will check in…” the rest of Neal’s words are drowned out by Henry tugging on her arm, holding out his phone to show her pictures from the day.

Emma tries to smile and focus in on her son’s excitement, but she can’t shake the unease creeping up on her. Some business with Neal, Hook, and apparently Smee. A book. Not just a book, a tome. Which is just a fancy word for book, but still. It sounds…more ominous. And it’s a rare one at that.

She holds Henry closer as he scrolls through his photos, but her annoyance returns when Neal strolls back to them, smiling like everything’s perfect. Emma exhales. 

Maybe everything _is_ perfect. Henry just had a great day, and Smee is known for being good at finding rare things. Maybe it’s a gift for Henry, or something Belle wants for the library. 

She’s just so wired these days, waiting for the next reality check to come hit her in the face, remind her that perfection is a fallacy, that everyone will let you down eventually. Emma shivers at the morbidity of her thoughts and attempts to return Neal’s smile. Her son just had a good day with his dad, and Emma wants to keep that feeling going.

“So, kid,” she ruffles Henry’s hair. “To the loft? David’s making steaks.”

With that, Henry takes off down the docks, Neal following right behind with a yell that they’re on the way to the car.

Emma pauses, watching as Hook finally ambles back down the ramp. She might not be in the mood for another terse conversation with Neal, but she doesn’t have the same qualms with Hook.

He’s always doing something annoying anyways, like the way his hand is absently playing with a piece of frayed rope as he steps towards her.

“Good day, Swan?”

She’s still staring at the rope, watching Hook’s thumb run back and forth over the end. His thumb had stroked her cheek like that for just a second, back when they – Emma huffs. Reminiscing about that one little moment isn’t why she’s still standing here.

“Kind of. Hard to concentrate though, given the company Henry was in. I don’t need him getting hurt again.”

His eyes harden at that, and Emma wants to take back her jab. She didn’t mean it. Hell, she’d spent lunch telling her mom to lighten up, and she’d had to field a phone call from Regina on the way to the docks where she might have implied that Hook was her ‘friend’ and perfectly capable of keeping Henry from drowning.

And here she is, using those same arguments against him. What’s worse, Emma knows deep down that her disapproval of him probably stings more than the rest of their group combined.

“Emma. Nothing will happen to Henry when he’s with me, I can promise you that,” he says quietly. The sincerity in his gaze leaves Emma shaking her head. Somehow he always seems to push her too far, and she him. 

Too far into arguments, into antagonism, into kisses, or worse, into some sort of vulnerability that always leaves Emma breathless.

“No, I know,” she finally responds with a shallow laugh. “He had fun. Maybe too much fun.”

And just like that, Hook’s seriousness is replaced with a wide grin, the tension of the moment broken. He’s good at that, Emma’s noticed. Good at easing hostility with a quip, even if it means making an ass of himself.

“Henry’s welcome anytime. He’s a quick study, never afraid to try the next thing. He’d make a good pirate.”

Emma ignores the slight sense of pride she feels at Hook’s praise.

“Thank you. I think he needed this.”

He nods with a smirk and leans a little closer into her. “And remember, you don’t need the excuse of fetching your son if you’d like to come see me.”

Emma takes a step back as she sighs, amused at Hook’s leering gaze. “I’m not here for you. I’m taking them to have dinner with my parents.”

“Ah, happy family,” Hook says with a shrug. If only he knew. “Then why are you still talking to me?”

Emma shakes her head, drawing a line in big white chalk in her mind, right between her and Hook, hoping that’ll break the tunnel vision she’s feeling. 

The trick seems to work for now, and Emma bookmarks it in her mind, some part of her knowing she’ll have to use it again at some point.

“Because, I want to know why Smee was really here today.”

Hook furrows his brow, and maybe she would’ve bought his confusion if she didn’t know his face so well. His eyes dart down and to the left, and Emma remembers that faux innocence from the first time they met. “Because he’s my first mate? Look, Swan, I’m sorry about letting him come along, if I’d known-”

“It’s not that,” Emma cuts off. “Why was he really here? I know Neal has something to do with it; I just heard them whispering.”

Hook drops the act and looks her over appraisingly with a tilt to his head. “So ask Neal.”

A sound suggestion, and Emma hates it. 

“I’m asking you.”

“Look, Smee is good at tracking things down. There was something that Neal wanted, presumably for his father’s shop, so I simply connected the two. Nothing so nefarious as your tone implies.”

Emma shoots him a sarcastic smile. “How nice of you.”

“You don’t believe me?” Hook asks with mock offense.

“I think you’re keeping something from me.”

“Then ask your- ask Neal. He’ll tell you the same lovely tale I just told you.”

Emma grinds her teeth. “So you guys are friends now?”

“We were never not friends.”

“Seems like we remember Neverland differently, then.”

“So now you want to talk about Neverland?”

“I never– I’m just surprised you guys are spending so much time together, that’s all.”

“Well, I once had plans of taking him as my charge when he was a boy, so. Not so surprising.”

Emma runs her palm over her face, feeling the need to burst out in laughter or tears. She’d managed to put that whole confusing aspect of Neal and Hook’s history out of her mind. 

Plus there was the fact that Hook had Neal’s mom’s name tattooed on his body, that he’d spent multiple lifetimes trying to avenge her death. Their tale could definitely rival Snow White’s when it came to dramatics, and somehow Emma has become enmeshed in all these insane stories. 

And yet where the hell does she fit into them? She’s a footnote in a life as long as Hook’s. A name on a blanket in the saga of her parents. 

She settles for an exasperated sigh, not wanting to unpack that right before another stilted family dinner.

“I guess that makes sense.”

Emma makes to leave, when Hook reaches out and grasps her arm, looking serious again.

“Swan, if you’re truly worried, you should…” he pauses, like he’s unsure if he should continue. “You should talk to Neal. Maybe that conversation will enlighten you in ways I can’t.”

By the slight desperation with which he clutches her forearm, it’s clear Hook’s trying to hint at something.

But Emma’s tired now, as she so often is these days. She wants a straight answer, and suddenly she feels almost betrayed that Hook won’t give that to her right now. It’s better than a blatant lie, but Emma wants more. She expects more from Hook; it’s a sentiment that leaves her more upset than his vague answer.

“I have to get to dinner,” she mutters as she pulls from his grip like it burns. The walk back down the dock feels like it takes forever, and Emma can feel his eyes on her the whole way.

She’s quiet as she reaches the bug, relieved for the moment that Neal and Henry are joking with each other like they’re both preteen boys, unaware of the churning in her gut.

Because the worst part, Emma realizes as she drives them away, the worst part isn’t Neal and Hook having their own secrets, nor is it Hook’s interest in protecting Neal over being honest with her, as much as that stings.

The worst part is that Emma can still feel where Hook had reached out to her, can still feel the tender way his thumb had stroked her wrist before she tore away.

-

The next few days go on the same, Emma fraying just a little at the seams as she attempts to maintain some balance between work, Henry, and ignoring everyone who wants to discuss the ‘future’ with her, whatever the hell that is. 

Regina is pushing magic lessons with more urgency, David wants to talk about her thoughts on returning to the Enchanted Forest, Mary Margaret wants her input on creating a new sort of town council, and Neal’s hints at wanting to spend time with her alone are getting less and less subtle. She doesn’t even bother reading his texts anymore. It’s not like she’s going to respond anytime soon.

When she comes across Hook lounging at the bar at Granny’s while she’s waiting to pick up dinner for her family, Emma considers stealing his bottle of rum just to spite him.

She still hasn’t had a chance to ask Neal about his dealings with Smee, mostly because she would have to commit to being alone with him to ask.

So her anger about feeling in the dark stays reserved for Killian Jones and the smug face he pulls when she leans against the counter at the diner.

“Stay for a drink, Swan?”

She doesn’t have it in her to respond with more than a roll of her eyes. He must have spent the day on his ship, by the way he smells faintly of sea salt. It’s distracting, the same way that his index finger circling the rim of his glass is distracting.

Emma pulls out her phone and starts scrolling through the settings, just to give her eyes something else to focus on. It’s not like Hook would understand what she’s looking at anyways.

“How would one go about acquiring a device like that?” he asks as he gestures to her phone.

“You still don’t have one?”

It’s Hook’s turn to roll his eyes, and it puts a smile on Emma’s face, at least for a moment. She likes teasing him.

“I wouldn’t be asking if I did.”

Emma taps her chin, debating if she should help him or not. She’s still pissed, if she’s being honest, about him defending Neal and half-lying to her. But it would be nice for him to be reachable, just in case they suffer another disaster that requires a pirate on hand.

“I can take you to the Computer Castle this week, if you want,” she says. The name for Storybrooke’s electronic store seems even more silly post-curse breaking.

Hook looks surprised at the offer, smiling warmly as he tips his glass to her. “I’d appreciate that. It’s time I start adjusting, I suppose.”

“Would you go back to the Enchanted Forest?” she asks, the potential for more magic beans looming in her mind. Maybe Hook would be quick to flee if he knew his old home was accessible. “I mean, if you had the chance? Would you go?”

Hook finishes off his glass, seeming to consider the question. “Who knows? This realm certainly has its perks.” His eyes drift to Emma’s briefly as he speaks. “Indoor plumbing, for instance.”

Emma nods with a laugh. “Very true,” she says quietly, feeling a sense of annoyance at everything she would miss if her family really wanted to leave. “I didn’t even think of that.”

“Why, you thinking of settling down in your parents’ kingdom? Last I checked, some very territorial ogres were calling it home.”

“Oh I know,” Emma sighs. David had mentioned the idea of taking back their kingdom at work yesterday, but Emma hadn’t let the conversation go much further. He wasn’t the one who had witnessed firsthand all the damage ogres could cause.

Hook narrows his eyes. “You seem vexed, Swan. What is it?”

Emma turns to peek around the diner, starting to bustle from the dinner rush. No one seems to be eavesdropping, but she’s not sure what to say to Hook. What if she tells him about Anton’s plans, and he jumps at the chance to leave? That would…she doesn’t want to deal with that, not tonight.

“I don’t know. Just curious, I guess. I feel like everyone’s so ready to figure out the future.”

“And you?” Hook asks with a tilt to his brow. “Not so interested in looking ahead?”

“Please,” Emma groans with exhaustion, “I barely have a handle on the present.”

“That’s fair. Is it the sheriffing or savioring that’s got you down?”

“Both. And…other stuff I’ve been putting off.” 

Emma recalls, suddenly, Hook’s words in Neverland. That after they saved Henry, the ‘fun’ would begin. She certainly missed that memo, because all she’s felt for the last few weeks is dread, fear for the future, and that pressure low in her gut that comes whenever she spends too much time talking to Hook.

Surely that’s not what fun is to him. Emma had assumed he’d- what, court her? She probably would have hated every second, but now she hasn’t even had the opportunity to find out. Maybe he’s changed his tune, finding fun with Tinkerbell, or someone else far more fun and far less complicated than Emma.

Someone who can return his affections. Because Emma…it feels like she’s always at a loss when it comes to Hook. Only giving him a ‘good’ to his promise to think of her always, a blank stare as he shared the secret that had rocked his worldview, a secret that was about her.

There were moments in Neverland that left her reeling, both from the adrenaline she felt when he stared her down, and the annoyance that she didn’t have him fully figured out. 

And Emma’s still reeling, but Hook’s no longer baring his soul to her. He still flirts, Emma still jabs back, but now that things are settling in Storybrooke, she’d thought – she doesn’t know what she thought.

“Why are you putting things off?”

“Because it might mean that things would change.”

“What’s wrong with a little change?”

“I don’t know, just…”

“Are you happy with how things are now?”

Of course not. Emma’s stretched thin, teetering on this self-made tightrope. She’s dodging meaningful conversations with just about everyone in her life, and it’s becoming more unbearable by the day.

“Maybe not, but I worry that if I start dealing with…things, other people might not be happy.” She cringes at her vagueness, but she doesn’t have time to get into details with Hook right now. Especially when Neal’s a part of her frustration.

“Emma.” Hook’s tone causes her to look at him, finding concern on his face. “If I’ve learned anything from your family, it’s that the only thing they want for you is to be happy and safe. Nothing else.”

If only it were so simple. She ducks her head, trying to let his words soothe her. She just wants to make them proud, and she has no idea how to do that.

“But never mind all that, love,” Hook continues, bright again. “You’ve got more important matters at hand.”

“Like what?”

“Like stealing a device from this computer’s castle.”

Emma openly laughs at that. “It’s not actually a castle. And we’re not stealing, we’re buying. So remember to bring some…loot, or something. To pay for it.”

“I’m sure stealing would be less trouble,” Hook says with a frown.

“Only if your idea of ‘less trouble’ includes a night in a cell,” Emma points at the badge attached to her belt. “Still sheriff, remember?”

“Fine, fine,” Hook replies. “We’ll do it your way.”

Granny soon drops her to-go bag on the counter, and Emma leaves Hook with a plan to pick up a cellphone later in the week.

It’s a slow walk back to the loft as Emma mulls over their conversation. She knows she’s walking on pins and needles every time she has more than a few minutes alone with anyone that isn’t Henry. Like they’re about to confront her about her terrible job as the savior, as sheriff, as a daughter, as – whatever she is to Neal.

Emma knows things can’t keep going as they are. Henry’s content for the time being, but soon he’ll start bringing up her magic again, or her relationship with his dad. And as of now, the only answer Emma has is that she’s avoiding everything because that’s less painful than whatever unknown obstacles await her in the future.

She wants to be someone her kid is proud of, and lately, Emma is sorely lacking the characteristics of the hero that Henry swore her to be when they first met.

Henry invited Neal over for dinner again, and Emma manages to make it through the meal without focusing too much on the way David and Mary Margaret look between her and Neal, their eyes bright like she’s about to spring a happy engagement announcement on them.

They need to have it out, her and Neal. Emma’s quiet throughout dinner, trying and failing to sort out her feelings. She blames it on her exhaustion from work, and no one quite believes her, but thankfully they let it go.

Neal lights up when she offers to walk him out at the end of the night.

“Listen, I know I’ve been a little distant lately,” Emma starts once they head out onto the sidewalk.

Neal gasps with mock surprise. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Seriously,” Neal says with a kind smile. “I know you’re dealing with a lot. I’m happy to give you space. Gave me more time with the kid.”

Emma closes her eyes, trying to keep the tears from coming. It hurts sometimes, seeing this half stranger, half ghost from her past, appear and take Henry’s world by storm.

She’s glad he’s here, glad he’s so eager to spend time with his son, but Emma remembers a time when he was eager to spend his life with her. And the time he was eager to marry his fiancé. And the years he spent eager to get away from his father, only to now spend his days in his shop. Neal’s always been swayed by however the wind blows, no matter how good his intentions are.

Emma tamps down that resentment again, but the feeling reminds her of why she came down here with him in the first place.

“We should…find a time to talk.”

“So you finally checked my texts? There’s a restaurant that your dad mentioned, I could–”

“I was thinking more lowkey,” she cuts off.

“Granny’s then?”

“Or just…I could stop by your place after work tomorrow.”

“Of course, I could attempt to cook or–”

“You don’t have to do that.”

Emma exhales. She doesn’t know what a conversation between them will result in, but however it goes, she doesn’t need half the town eavesdropping.

“Alright,” Neal says finally, smiling uncertainly at her. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Emma nods once and heads back inside before he can say anything else. She remembers the times when they were so comfortable in each other’s presence, when she longed for time spent alone with Neal. Maybe after tomorrow she can feel that again. Maybe she can rid herself of the dread she feels every time they talk.

It would be so nice, Emma thinks as she trudges up the stairs, for her to actually look forward to talking to her son’s father. It would even be nice if that tragic love she has for him was useful, if she could turn it into the kind of love that meant they could have a future together.

Her parents eye her with anticipation when she re-enters the loft. Emma knows they would like it too, her and Neal together. Mary Margaret has all but said it outright a few times. It would be so nice for everyone if Emma could feel the way she did before Neal left her.

It really would be nice.

And yet when she tucks Henry in for bed and settles in for another restless night of checking on him every hour, Emma can’t help but guess that her time with Neal tomorrow won’t quite result in the fairy tale ending that would please everyone so much.

-

Emma dawdles at the loft for far too long before going to Neal’s. She’d spouted some excuse about needing to get ready alone, so Mary Margaret is at least minding her business downstairs. 

But Emma’s just lying in bed, looking up at the ceiling, debating if that strange stain is some type of mold. Maybe she should get it looked at. Right now, for example.

She doesn’t want to go. Doesn’t want to do this. Doesn’t even know what it is she thinks she’s doing by talking to Neal. A voice in her head, which sounds suspiciously like her mother, tells her it’s a beginning. 

It’s a chance for them to get everything out in the open, for them to talk about his dad, Tamara, her family, all the things they’ve held back. And then once it’s all out there, a weight will be lifted from Emma’s shoulders, and all the pain and resentment and dread that flares up whenever she sees Neal will vanish, and then they can be happy and move forward.

A beginning. A new chapter. ‘A fresh start’, Neal had said. Because it’ll be so easy for Emma to let go of everything and get back to loving him like she’s seventeen again and has never been to prison because she trusted that he’d be the man she thought he was.

Just like that. So easy.

And there’s that anger again. Emma hops up before she can crawl under the covers and stew in it like she wants. She’s an adult woman, for God’s sake. She can do this.

Neal cooked. It’s the first thing Emma notices when he invites her inside the apartment where he’s staying near the shop.

The pasta’s not half bad, but it’s the sentiment behind the act that Emma can’t stomach.

She really didn’t want him to make her dinner, not when she’s about to…about to what? It’s like her gut knows something that her brain can’t quite work out yet.

Dinner conversation stays light as they trade stories about Emma’s job, or the crowd that Neal has encountered now that he’s been spending time sorting out the shop.

There’s the lingering question of what he’ll get up to once he’s finished sorting out his dad’s affairs, but Emma doesn’t bring it up. It feels too far in the future right now.

She eats quickly without really tasting the food, going through the motions of having a nice evening, even though her head is pounding with all that still goes unsaid between them.

When Neal refuses to let her help clean up, she settles on the couch with her wineglass, still full from the first pour. Emma looks around the sparsely decorated room, the only signal that someone lives here being the keys hanging on the hook next to the door. Neal could take off in an instant, and it’d be like he never even showed up to Storybrooke in the first place.

Emma runs her hands through her face when she hears the kitchen sink shut off.

Neal enters with a big smile and the bottle of wine, which he deposits on the coffee table before sitting next to her on the couch.

“So,” he starts, looking so much happier than Emma feels.

“Dinner was great. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to, for you.”

Her stomach drops at his tone. So loving and familiar, like this is something they ‘do’ regularly. Like that wasn’t the first homecooked meal they’d ever eaten alone together.

“How’s the new place?” she asks as she looks around again, focusing on anything but Neal.

“Emma,” he murmurs, shifting closer to her. “I mean it. I like spending time with you, just the two of us.”

His words have Emma grimacing. How can he like the time they spend together? She can’t remember a single conversation between them since New York that hasn’t involved awkwardness, jealousy, an apology, or just the worst kind of tension imaginable.

She wishes she could just let herself laugh with him the way Henry does, the way he even made David laugh last night. That had been Neal and Emma once. But now their time together was wrought with sorrow, at least for Emma.

“You are dealing with a lot right now,” she starts gently. “How are you feeling about your dad?”

“That’s not,” he runs a hand over his face as he groans. “That’s not what this is about.”

“I just think you haven’t processed everything that’s happened over the last few months, and maybe you should be focusing on that right now.”

“Please don’t do that. Don’t use all that stuff as a reason to push me away, Em.”

“All that stuff? Neal,” she tries to keep her voice level, but she’s drained already. “All that stuff includes the fact that your fiancé and father just died. This isn’t about me.”

“It is though,” he argues, almost pleading with her. “It is about you. I want to be with you, okay? I know you’re scared because of last time, but I was just scared back then.”

“Neal…” she sighs, at a loss now. He’s not lying when he says that, but his sincerity just leaves Emma with a sinking stomach.

“I mean it Emma. You don’t have to be scared that I’ll leave again. I’m here. For good. Please don’t let that fear hold you back.”

Emma tries to take in his words, let them wash over her. She really tries to let them soothe her, to take away that dull ache that still flares up from time to time, that ache over a decade old. 

She looks at Neal then, running over the lines of his face that weren’t there when they first met. He was her everything once. The first person to truly care for her, to put her first, up until he let her down harder than ever. 

Neal’s eyes are shining with unshed tears, and she knows she probably has the same defeated look on her face.

It makes her want to cry for her teenage self. The one that hoped against hope that he’d show up one day, whisk her away from her cell and tell her he had always loved her. 

But Emma has grown up, and even though she understands his reasons, it doesn’t change the fact that the betrayal still happened.

Worse still, it doesn’t change what she’d revealed in the Echo Caves. That she loves him, but everything would feel easier if he weren’t here. Her mind is so scrambled, and when Neal reaches out to take her hand, she has to stand up from the couch and put space between them.

“It’s not that simple,” she whispers, trying to keep her voice steady despite the rising dread she feels in her stomach.

Neal stands as well, but keeps his distance. “Why, because of Henry?” He runs a hand through his hair. “I know it might be strange at first, but don’t you think he’d be happy for his parents to be together? So would your parents. Hell, everyone would.”

“But what if-” she pauses. _But what if I wouldn’t?_ Emma looks around the room, devoid of any personal touch. She feels numb, the realization hitting her as the words almost pour out. But what if she wouldn’t be happy? 

Neal’s not wrong. Mary Margaret had tried to help her pick out an outfit for tonight. David told her he was “proud” of her as she’d left the station. Henry’s eyes light up every time he sees Emma and Neal together. 

Emma feels the tears fall before she can hold them back, but she puts up a hand when Neal moves to comfort her. 

For her entire life she had craved this: she had craved having people in her life she could make proud. She’d even wished for this exact moment a hundred times while in prison. Neal standing in front of her and baring all. 

But it’s different now. It just is.

Her eyes are still blurry with tears when she gazes at him. Whatever he sees on her face, it’s not what he wants. “It’s not just Henry, is it?”

That lost little part of herself wants to go to him and deny it all. It wants to say that she’s willing to try, just because the thought of letting down her family like this feels awful. 

If it makes Henry happy, if her parents look at her with pride for following ‘true love’, shouldn’t that be enough? Seventeen year old Emma is screaming at her right now to remember just how badly she had craved Neal’s attention. 

Emma remembers what Mary Margaret had said in Neverland, that she deserved a happy ending. Whatever a happy ending is, whatever that will look like for Emma, she knows now it doesn’t mean her and Neal living happily ever after. At least not together.

“No. It’s not just Henry.”

Neal sits back down with a sad smile. “It’s too late, isn’t it? Too late for us to go back to before?”

“It’s not just that. I was so angry for so long. And even when we met again, and I understood why you did it…”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I ruined your life.”

“Yeah.”

“Could you ever forgive me?”

She finds herself pacing slightly across the small living room, head feeling clear for the first time all night. “I don’t think it’s even about forgiveness. Maybe, maybe some part of me already has. But it’s what’s left after forgiveness. It’s been twelve years, Neal. We’re different. We just are.”

“You think we…we couldn’t make it work now?”

“I needed you then. So badly. You were the only thing that felt like family. But I don’t think I need someone to be my whole world the way I did then. And even if I did…” she exhales, feeling wretched for only truly realizing this point now. “I don’t think I can love you like that.”

The words come out in a gentle whisper as she follows his lead and sits back on the couch, keeping distance between them. Neal puts his head in his hands, and the sigh he lets out has Emma wanting to close the distance between them and hold him close. 

He’s suffered so much, between Tamara and his father, and now this. That sense of guilt bubbles up again, a reminder at how awful someone like her has to be to add this much insult to injury. But Emma stays where she is. Now that she’s admitted it out loud, there’s no holding it back. There is no _Emma and Neal,_ not in the way people in her life might want. She just hopes they can forgive her for it. 

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize Emma,” Neal says, his face still resting in his hands. “I’m just sorry too.”

Emma leans back into the couch, feeling like one weight has lifted only to be replaced by another, this one filled with guilt and dread at what will happen after this conversation ends.

She could barely stomach Henry’s anger when he’d first met Neal. She has no idea how she’ll navigate the future with everything between them. She tries to take a breath, but her voice still comes out brittle. 

“Still. I’m sorry. I wish…”

Neal raises a hand to stop her. “Please don’t finish that thought.” 

She’s not even sure what she would wish for. Maybe for her feelings to be different, for Neal to have never tried to make this work. Hell, maybe she would have wished that the curse had been destroyed and her and Henry could live in a world without any of this mess. She feels selfish for thinking any of it.

There’s not much left to be said after that, but they still sit until the air in the room feels a little less stifling. The tension between them has eased slightly, even though she can tell Neal is still reeling.

They don’t talk much about Henry or the future. Emma figures they’re both exhausted already; they can save logistics for another time.

When Neal walks her to the door, they both sink into a deep hug. Emma tries to imbue every confusing emotion she’s feeling right now, and given the way Neal holds onto her, he’s doing the same. 

“Goodbye, Neal.”

He nods in response, and she feels the finality in her tone. She might be seeing him tomorrow, but everything will feel different. 

Once she’s down the stairs and back on the street a sigh of relief overtakes her, one she didn’t even know she needed. Emma feels the tears start up again as she begins to walk towards the loft, but this time they feel more like a release than anything else.

Rumplestiltskin’s words from aboard the Jolly Roger flash in her mind. She was so angry when he accused her of not having what it takes, angry because he’d been right in his assessment of her. Emma is not one for leaps of faith. But tonight she did take a chance in her own way, choosing to focus on the present rather than try to relive her past with Neal.

Her train of thought pauses when she realizes her feet have taken her away from town, towards the water instead.

Emma cringes. Now is not the time to seek out anything other than the comfort of her own bed. Somehow her legs don’t quite listen, and she lets herself keep walking. She really doesn’t think seeing Hook right now would do either of them any good. Chances are he’s holding court at the Rabbit Hole, or worse, hogging a booth at Granny’s with Tinkerbell and some of his crew. Not that any of that would matter to Emma. It really wouldn’t.

The bench is empty when Emma reaches it, and the docks are quiet. She sits on her same log anyways, pleasantly surprised at the way the moonlit tide seems to calm her a bit.

She watches the ripples in the water for longer than she means to, but eventually she knows it’s time to head back. She can’t fathom what waits for her when she gets to the loft. The image of her parents hiding disappointment behind their smiles appears in her mind. 

It fills Emma with some sense of misplaced anger. She never denied that Neal was important to her, but how could they believe that her true love would be the same man who left her alone because he got spooked just by hearing the name of his long lost father? 

Luckily only Mary Margaret is there when she gets home. David had volunteered to do the patrol tonight, and Emma is glad for it. She’s not sure she could field the questions from both of them after her night.

“So…” Mary Margaret slides a mug of cocoa across the table as soon as Emma takes a seat. “How did it go?”

The implication behind her words leaves Emma with a grimace. “It…went.”

“As in?” Mary Margaret asks with a raise of her eyebrows.

Emma takes a long sip from her mug. “As in we talked. Got some things out in the open.”

Her mom doesn’t back off just yet. “So are you going to see each other again? For a second date?”

“Mary Margaret,” Emma sighs. “It wasn’t a date. It was a talk.” She steels herself for her next words. “It was more of a goodbye than anything.”

“A what-? Goodbye?” The despondent look on her face is exactly why Emma was dreading all of this.

Some ugly broken feeling rears its head in her mind, longing for the days when she had no one to answer to, no one to try and tell her what they thought was ‘best’ for her. Emma tries to tamp it down. 

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“But what about Neverland? You were so-”

“I know. I was upset. But being happy he’s alive and wanting to jump back into a relationship after twelve years? Those are two completely different things.”

Mary Margaret sighs, looking thoughtful. “Well, your father and I found our way back to each other after twenty eight years. Maybe it just needs time.”

And there it is. Emma feels her teeth grinding. _But I’m not you. I’m not dad._ Emma wants to shout. She didn’t grow up in a beautiful land where people fell in love at the drop of a hat. She grew up by getting let down time and again until she learned to stand on her own. 

Neverland taught her more about the strength her parents have, and she loves them for it. Since she came to Storybrooke, Emma has learned how to open herself up to love in ways she never thought possible, thanks to her parents, to Henry, to the people who accepted her as one of their own.

Why can’t that be enough? Why can’t they accept that all Emma needs is her family? She can’t remember a time when romance did anything other than break her heart and force those walls back up, higher and sturdier than ever before. 

And now, if anything, Emma has too much to lose. For the time being, all she can really handle is making sure Henry is safe and happy.

Emma stews in her thoughts for a few more minutes before she finally formulates a response. “Maybe you’re right. But maybe not.”

Her mom shrugs with a smug smile, like everything’s just perfect. “We’ll see. I think you and Neal will work through whatever-”

“Mom,” Emma retorts firmly. “It’s not happening. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know, I’m just-”

“Not listening to what I’m saying.”

“Emma, I-” Mary Margaret looks taken aback, maybe slightly ashamed. “Of course I am.” She reaches across the table and covers Emma’s hand with her own. “I just want you to be happy.”

“And I’m saying I don’t think Neal is going to do that for me.”

Mary Margaret tries to hide it, but Emma can see the slight dissatisfaction in her mother’s answering nod. 

Emma wants to tell her every single miserable thought she had the night she got arrested. She wants to tell her about the tears that rolled down her cheeks when the morning sickness started, when Emma had to accept the fact that she’d never been more alone in her life, even with a baby inside her.

“He’s really not like dad, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Neal. He’s nice, and I’m glad he’s here for Henry. And I’m even glad you get along with him. But he’s no Prince Charming.”

“Well, even your father has his off days.”

“I know you want me to find what you guys have. But that’s not…I’m not like you guys. I would’ve thought that was obvious by now.”

“No, no. You’re right,” Mary Margaret starts tearing up, and Emma regrets her word choice. This wasn’t supposed to turn into some veiled critique about her mother not raising her. She squeezes her mom’s hand, hoping to ease that guilt. They both have things they’re still trying to make peace with.

“Just…” she smiles when her mom turns over her hand and squeezes back. “Trust that I can figure out will make me happy? And I promise, if I need some help, I’ll ask.”

Mary Margaret nods firmly, still sad, but at least now she’s accepting Emma’s answer. “Of course. And I’ll make sure to pass that on to your dad.”

“Thank you.”

It’s not too much later that Emma climbs back into bed. The stain on the ceiling is still there, and it’s almost comforting in a way. Her parents are asleep downstairs, Henry is comfortable at Regina’s, the stain is still there. 

Emma admitted that she doesn’t want to be tied to her first love, and the world didn’t fall into a sinkhole. She’s not going to force a relationship that would leave her miserable, and her parents haven’t booted her onto the street, and the stain is still there.

Emma feels free to sleep easier for the first time in months.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for suffering through another chapter of this mess i hope it made your day better! i have mixed feelings about how slow this is moving but don't worry because BIG exciting things are coming 🌚🌝
> 
> and here is my [tumblr](https://sithsoupsnakes.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just wanted to say thank you so so so much to everyone who's been reading and engaging with this fic (and my other one). it legit makes my day and gives me a little boost to keep writing, so thank youuu

Emma Swan’s face is the first thing Killian sees in his mind when he wakes with the sun.

It’s torturous, really, to spend an entire night dreaming about a woman, only to wake up and start reminiscing about her all over again. Killian briefly wonders if he’d somehow cursed himself at the town line, when he promised to think of her every day, because now she barely leaves his thoughts.

He can’t quite remember if this was how he felt when he first fell for Milah. But they had rushed into everything, high off the thrill of escaping her life, jumping from plunder to plunder. Killian barely had time to think with how fast they lived back then, at least at the beginning.

Now, though, Killian has nothing but time. He distracts himself with the upkeep of his ship, occasionally checking on his crew, and being a general nuisance in the library.

Belle’s had him pouring over various texts, as well helping Neal map out the area surrounding Rumplestiltskin’s castle. He had let slip that he’d studied the region in detail once he had returned to the Enchanted Forest before the curse, even though he knew entering would be a death trap without the dagger.

Killian certainly hasn’t lied to Belle or Neal about what he knows, but he’s taken his time in giving them information. The girl may put on a good face when she’s around others, but Killian can see the growing desperation behind her eyes. She’s not giving up this search for anything, and a woman that determined can be dangerous.

Neal hasn’t been quite so frantic, but he joins them in the library most evenings to help research, although he’s been suspiciously absent the last few days. Killian’s wanted to ask Belle, but the fear that maybe Neal has taken to spending time with Emma holds him back. It’s not something he wants to hear about.

So he’s opted to lounge around the library, reading books from this realm while occasionally pointing out flaws in Belle’s growing itinerary for her journey into the Enchanted Forest, should it ever come to fruition. Killian wouldn’t call them friends, but he doesn’t mind the company. She’s smart as a whip, and her frequent request for his help keeps Killian occupied from drinking himself into oblivion alone on his ship.

Today, however, he has a date with Emma Swan.

Well, it’s actually a trip to purchase a telephone, but Killian’s not picky. Time with her is always a thrill, even when it’s time spent with her yelling at him.

Recently their conversations have occurred in passing, Emma always itching to run to the next thing. Killian couldn’t help the way his heart raced when she offered to help him a few days ago. He needs a phone ‘for safety reasons,’ he knows, but Emma could have just pointed out the shop and been on her way. Instead she’s picking him up in her yellow vehicle.

Despite her occasional antagonism towards him, Killian just knows Emma doesn’t half mind his company. She tries so hard to hide whatever’s behind her eyes when they’re together, but he can’t help it: Killian can read her, even if she won’t admit it just yet.

When the sun is a bit higher in the sky, Killian leaves his ship and makes his way to the lot near the docks, keeping an eye out for a flash of yellow.

He knows he should start making an effort to rid himself of these feelings. It’s been made clear that Emma and Neal are spending time together with their son, and whatever the nature of the relationship, Killian shouldn’t interfere. Probably couldn’t even if he tried. The two of them have a shared history, a son. 

All Killian can offer is uncertainty, the promise that he would love her.

But what’s the word of a pirate? Emma may understand him, may even like him in some ways, but that doesn’t mean she trusts him.

There is a whole list of reasons why Killian should let go of her. But despite his affections going unreturned, he likes the way it feels to love again. It’s been so long since he felt this kind of hope. Hope that life might be worth living again, even if he’d failed in his quest for revenge.

He’d felt pathetic at first; three hundred years of seeking vengeance and never succeeding. But Milah never asked for this. Maybe killing the crocodile was never truly Killian’s fate. Maybe making things right with Baelfire, righting some more of his past wrongs, is why he’s survived this long.

If only making things right didn’t mean that Killian would have to walk away from the woman he loves. He thinks again to Emma’s question from a few nights before, when she’d asked if he would return to Misthaven, the supposedly secret beans clearly on her mind.

It’s an exhilarating prospect, taking to the open seas again. But all the gold in the world couldn’t hold a candle to the memory of his kiss with Emma Swan. Killian’s always been greedy; all the best pirates are. 

And once a man gets a taste of that kind of euphoria, there’s no going back.

In time he spots the small car puttering down the road, captained by Swan herself. He can’t help the salacious grin he sends her as he hops into the passenger seat, and he’s surprised when Emma sends a genuine smile back his way.

She’s seemed so discontent lately, the weight of the world on her shoulders. Killian has dreamt of a world where he can help her bear that burden, but here all he can do is try to make her laugh, to distract from that dark place her mind likes to retreat to.

But today seems like a good day. She complains lightheartedly about her dealings with the dwarves, and Killian is more than content to listen to the soothing lilt of her voice as they drive.

Once they make it to the shop, Killian soon realizes that Emma’s presence is very necessary, as the shopkeeper tries to talk him through the various buttons and their uses. He looks to Emma for assistance, and she huffs lightheartedly before interrupting.

“Just,” she grabs the phone and holds it in front of Killian, pointing to the small screen. “Here’s my name. If you need to contact me, press this button, and I’ll answer.”

“And then just speak into it?”

“Yeah.”

“Sounds easy enough?”

Emma shakes her head with a laugh. “We’ll see. I’ll put in a few other contacts, just in case.”

Killian watches as her thumbs punch in the numbers. He’s glad she’s here, glad he wasn’t laughed out of this strange store for being completely baffled at all of this. Belle had showed him how she operated a computer a few nights ago, but some of this realm’s technology still confuses Killian.

He grumbles as he offers the shopkeeper far more gold than he would have parted with just a few years ago, but the gesture puts a fond smile on Emma’s face, and Killian would surely waste more than a few doubloons just to have her happily bump his shoulder again as they walk out the door.

“I’d call this outing a success, wouldn’t you, Swan?” He says as they reach the parked car.

“Think so. Now I don’t have to come all the way down to the docks every time we need some extra manpower,” she says with a laugh.

“I am happy to be at your beck and call,” he responds with a short bow before opening her car door. “But the Jolly Roger might miss you if you never come to visit.”

Emma rolls her eyes warmly, pausing before she gets into the car. “I’m starving. Wanna pick up lunch before I drop you off?”

“I-” Killian can’t believe his ears for a moment. He’s certain they’ve never willingly shared a meal together that didn’t involve them scarfing down food before they were called away to some disaster again. “That. That sounds lovely.”

They’re quiet for few minutes as Emma pulls out onto the street. The sun feels warmer than usual in Storybrooke today, Killian thinks. The town feels calm, which must be a welcome change for Emma. From what Killian’s gathered, this is truly the first chance Emma has gotten to rest since breaking the curse.

Killian takes a moment to look her over out of the corner of his eye. While she seems in better spirits than the last few times he’s seen her, Emma isn’t exactly the picture of relaxation and contentment that many townsfolk seem to be these days.

There’s a thrum of nervous energy that Killian can feel just sitting next to her. And while he’s never seen her without bags under her eyes, Killian has noticed how everyone around her has been attempting to move on from the stress of Neverland and all of their previous ventures. Even Henry, who’s faced far too much given his age, seemed in higher spirits during their sailing trip.

But Emma, she still seems to be wired like they’re about to face the next villain, rather than being the sheriff of a rather well-behaved town, at least by Killian’s standards.

“Are you…” he pauses. As much as she doesn’t like to admit it, Killian knows Emma. And he knows that asking about her wellbeing could end in him having to walk the rest of the way home. But he gets the sense that she’s good at hiding her anguish, and maybe it’s time someone calls her on it. “Are you alright, Swan? You’ve seemed…stressed.”

“Have I?” Emma asks, smile fading slightly. “Just a lot going on in town, I guess. Been busy.”

“Ah.” Killian looks back at the road ahead. He’s certain there’s more to it, but he decides Emma needs an afternoon of mindless fun, and he’s the perfect candidate. “I know you were partly joking in the shop, Swan, but I am available if you ever need some extra help around the station.”

She nods slowly, considering his offer. “I’ll keep that in mind. You do seem to have good connections to Storybrooke’s criminal underground scene.”

“Please, the crime here is nothing compared to Misthaven in its glory days.”

“Let me guess, you played a big part in all of that?”

“I shan’t confirm nor deny,” he says with a grin.

Emma pulls into a spot in front of some lunch spot Killian hasn’t tried yet, smiling again as she powers down the car.

“Come on, ever had a taco?”

“Can’t say that I have,” he unbuckles, happy to match her enthusiasm for food. “Lead the way.”

-

Killian feels lighter than air when he arrives at the library in the evening. As usual, Belle is working away, practically hidden behind the books stacked around her.

“Belle,” Killian calls, slumping down at his usual table in the stacks. “What would you have me do tonight?”

She pokes her head up, only just noticing his entrance. “Could you take a look at the books on ancient magic I left on your table? I’ve read over them a few times, but perhaps a second set of eyes could find something I missed.”

With that, she’s hunkered back down, furiously taking notes at whatever new tome she’s managed to scrounge up. Chances are, she’s already forgotten Killian’s here. 

They’ve gleaned from the text that Smee procured for them that there exists a vault, its location known only to the Dark One, that could be the key to learning more about the origins of such dark magic. Belle is convinced this vault could help in uncovering more about Rumplestiltskin’s death, but the fact remains that the location of the vault is still unknown, and searching the crocodile’s castle could prove to be just as fruitless as any other path they’ve tried to follow over the past few weeks.

He stares at Belle and wonders, as he usually does on the nights he stops by the library, how he ended up here. Killian should be drinking deeply with his crew at the Rabbit Hole, smiling to himself about the easy conversation that flowed between him and Emma over their long lunch. Or he should be with the woman herself, continuing to make her laugh, distracting her from a slow night shift at the station.

But instead he’s here, flipping through an old tome that’s fraying beneath his fingers, barely processing the words, his only company a librarian that gets more determined to solve an unsolvable problem every day they go without a magic bean. 

Killian is beginning to understand why his crew was so disgruntled with him during the early Neverland days, when the only thing he wanted to talk about was killing the crocodile. People so singularly focused on one mission can make for dreadful companions.

Killian’s train of thought is interrupted by the buzzing of Belle’s telephone, finally causing her to look up from her desk to answer. He watches as she lights up at whatever the caller tells her, too far away to make out the identity of the tinny voice projecting from the phone.

“Of course,” Belle nods as she stands, gesturing for Killian to stand as well, “We’ll be right there.” She hangs up, immediately grabbing her coat. “That was Mary Margaret. She said Tiny and the dwarves have news about the beans.”

Killian stays still. “Alright? So where are you headed?”

“ _We_ -” she emphasizes as she grabs onto Killian’s arm, dragging him towards the door, “Were asked to meet at Regina’s office in ten minutes. Come on, I’ll text Neal on the way.”

“Are you sure I should be there?” 

Belle rolls her eyes, looking more hopeful than she has in weeks. “Please, you said it yourself: it’s the worst kept secret in Storybrooke. They’d probably ask you to come along if you’d bothered getting yourself a phone.”

Killian slows for a moment as they walk out the door, remembering the device in his pocket. He’s surprised to see he has a notification, a short written message that seems to be from Emma.

“When did you get that?” Belle asks.

Killian can’t quite figure out how to open up the message, wishing he had paid closer attention to Emma’s words over lunch, when she had tried showing him the non-vocal function of the telephone. But he’d been too busy trying to calm his breathing at the way she’d shuffled her chair closer to him in the tiny restaurant, so close that a lock of her hair had come to rest along his shoulder. Killian can’t quite come to the conclusion that he regrets being so distracted.

“This morning. Now can you open the missive? I’ve no idea how.”

Belles seems to fight a smile at his ineptness as she easily accesses Emma’s note.

“She says to be at the mayor’s office at eight sharp,” Belle reads aloud before handing him back the phone with triumphant grin. “Told you. Are you and Emma more friendly now? You don’t seem to exasperate her as much as you once did.”

Killian glares at the message, which seems perfectly perfunctory to him. “How could you pick up on that from one sentence? Maybe I charmed her just as I charmed you.”

Belle side eyes him with a small smile as they walk down the street, already empty at this time of night. “I’m sure one day you’ll learn the proper texting etiquette, Captain. Emma’s not usually the type to end a text with an exclamation point, not unless she’s truly excited about something.”

He scoffs. “Why must grammar rules be so altered in this hellish realm?”

She gives him a conciliatory pat on the arm. “Have patience. In just a few minutes you might have a chance to take the Jolly Roger back to the Enchanted Forest. You’ll be back on the open seas soon enough, texting slang long forgotten.”

Killian doesn’t know how to express that he doesn’t want to return to that way of life. He still loves the thrill of it all; the smell of the sea and the wind in his hair as he sails, the wave of adrenaline that comes with a hard-won plunder, that comes with besting someone in combat. 

But a long time ago, perhaps even before the curse, all of that glory and elation started to fade in the night, when Killian sat alone in his quarters with nothing but a bottle and that hard-edged desire for revenge.

So all he does is send a fractured smile back to Belle. “What exactly are you planning on telling them about your plans?”

Belle shrugs, shivering slightly in the chill of the night. “I haven’t quite figured that out.”

“Perhaps you should try the truth.”

As Killian suspected, she doesn’t exactly take well to his suggestion. “We both know that’s not a good idea.”

“Perhaps they’d be willing to help, if they understood your concerns.”

Belle shakes her head, resolute in her answer. “Even getting you and Neal to help was like pulling teeth,” she mutters. They reach a crosswalk, and Killian waits for a moment as Belle seems to collect her thoughts. “I understand your concerns, but I’m not trying to undo all of Rumple’s sacrifices.” She turns to him then, eyes shining. “But I just need to know. I need to know if I could have done more to save him, without the darkness.”

Killian sighs, overcome with respect for a moment. Even in her grief, Belle tries to stay noble, tries to live her life with heroic values. It’s something he himself can never seem to do.

“Belle,” he starts, as they cross the street. They’re getting close to their destination, Killian steeling himself as Belle pulls out her phone to send a message to Neal. “Keeping your suspicions from everyone, it could be a very dangerous thing to do. The prince and Snow have always been friends to you. Perhaps you could ask for their help.”

She shakes her head, frowning now. “I thought we agreed to keep this between the three of us, until the time was right?”

“I can’t keep lying about this. And neither should you.”

“Since when has lying been an issue for you? Or are you just worried about saving your own skin, like you have been for the past three hundred years?”

“No- well, I don’t know,” he sputters, hating that Belle is partly right. Killian has no interest in making enemies with the group that awaits at the mayor’s office, for more than one reason. “But such a quest could be much more perilous than you’re ready for. Who knows what new horrors await in our old realm.”

“So now you’re worried about my wellbeing? After you’ve tried to kill me more than once?”

“Belle, I-” But what can he say to that? It’s the elephant in the room that’s been sitting there for weeks, the one Killian’s tried to tuck away by being amenable, by drawing maps and cracking jokes to Belle and Neal, like that could ever wipe away his past. “I’m not trying to stop you.”

“And yet you want me to tell the very people who could put an end to all this, before I can ever find answers.” She stops again, turning to him with her hands on her hips. “Do you really think the queen will let me do anything involving investigating Rumple’s death? She locked me up for twenty-eight years just to spite him, or have you forgotten that too?”

“Of course not, I-”

She plows on, not hearing his response. “Rumple died for all of us, but that’s not how everyone else will remember it, not if I can never find out more about his death. You know, plenty of people are going around saying Captain Hook has changed, that you’re a man of honor now. Is this you trying to be the hero, framing it like you’re stopping the Dark One from hurting us from beyond the grave?”

Killian almost wants to say yes. He wishes this was all because he’s truly noble, because he’s changed and wants to save others from the pain the Dark One caused him. 

But of course it’s not. He’ll never view Rumplestiltskin as the hero Belle believes him to be, but Killian’s realized he’s done with the ferocity of his grudge against the crocodile. He’d allow, perhaps even aid, one hundred Dark Ones to wreak havoc if it meant Emma Swan could admit to carrying even an ounce of affection for him. 

And yet Killian knows there’s no future for him and Emma if he lets darkness win out. She’s the epitome of light, the product of the truest love; Killian could never hope to reach that level of purity and goodness, but he’ll certainly try. But once again, him trying to right wrongs and be a man of honor somehow means he’s at odds with himself.

“I’m no hero, Belle. You know that better than most. But you must understand, at this point I have no interest in having your blood on my hands.”

“Just,” she huffs, searching his face like she’ll find something other than pure anguish. “It’s my choice, Killian. I know it might be dangerous and awful, but why can’t you let me go through with this, in my own way?”

Killian looks back, understanding her even more than ever now. Belle is on a mission for answers for her love of Rumplestiltskin, and Killian has to intervene, if only for his love of Emma Swan. “Because Emma might never forgive me if I let you both go down this path. Turns out the savior doesn’t like people dying unnecessarily.”

He’d thought the admission would frustrate Belle further, but if anything, the anger on her face is fading.

“This is about Emma?”

“Yes,” he rasps out. “I can’t lie to her like this.”

Belle looks thoughtful, if not confused, for a few beats. Finally she seems to process the longing in his voice. “You love her?”

His mouth opens with a denial on his lips, but it’s no use at this point. Killian’s confessed his love to Emma, in front of her parents, shouted it in drunken stupors in front of Tink and his crew, not that they were sober enough to understand him. Hell, he’s even brought it up in the presence of Neal, the man she truly loves. He can’t do any harm by revealing it to Belle, this one person he’s formed some tenuous solidarity with.

“Aye. I love her.”

“And I love Rumple,” she whispers with a watery smile. “So you understand that I’d do anything to get him back?”

“Aye. But I’m still a pirate, love. It’s like you said, my instinct is to save my own skin.”

She levels him with a look. “You might not be a hero exactly, but this isn’t about your own skin. This is about love.”

“Alright, let’s not…I’m not like you, Belle.”

“Oh I’m very aware of that, Captain,” she responds with a laugh. “Just…let’s get through this meeting, at the very least? I know you’re right, Snow and Charming could be supportive, but I’d like to at least hear what they’re thinking, before I reveal my hand.”

It’s more than Killian had hoped for, so he settles for a nod as they approach the town hall.

They’re one of the last few to shuffle in, just behind Lady Lucas and her wolfish granddaughter. It’s quite a gathering already inside the mayor’s office. All the dwarves and Anton decided their presence was needed, as well as the entire Charming clan and the queen herself.

Killian can’t help but smile when he spies Henry shooting him a big grin from under Regina’s protective arm, clearly excited by the topic of the coming meeting.

It takes a few minutes for the small crowd to settle, the dwarves and Charming couple catching up like they don’t chat at least once a day already.

He takes the chance to slide next to Emma, bumping her shoulder warmly like she’d done to him earlier in the day.

“Fancy meeting you here, Swan,” he whispers under his breath, just loud enough for her ears.

She raises a sardonic eyebrow at his greeting. “Glad to see you were paying attention during our phone lesson today.”

Killian shrugs, all nonchalant like he hadn’t had trouble just turning on the damn thing. “I’m a quick study.”

He opens his mouth to say more, maybe thank her again for her help and company, but Mary Margaret starts speaking up to the group before he can. When he spots Neal sneaking in at the last minute, fitting in next to Emma like he’s meant to be by her side, Killian opts to fade into the back. It’s where he fits best, after all.

“As most of you may know by now, Anton and the dwarves have been growing beans,” Mary Margaret starts, looking regal as ever. “They were able to harvest their first crop this morning.”

Killian blinks, too lazy to even pretend to be shocked at the news. Magic beans have always caused him nothing but trouble, and he doubts that’s about to change with this new batch.

The rest of the group is certainly excited by the announcement, however, as various voices start talking over each other, speaking of all the possibilities.

David starts quieting them down, clearly ready to offer his own opinion. “Now we only have a few right now, so we have to be careful about what happens to them, or who knows about them.”

Killian can’t help but roll his eyes a bit melodramatically as he notices most people in the room take the time to shoot him and the queen suspicious looks.

“So when can we move back?” one of the dwarves asks. It’s Doc, Killian guesses, although most of their names blend together in his head.

“It’s about time we take back our kingdom,” the Widow Lucas adds on.

David nods with pride at her words, but as Killian looks around, the rest of his family don’t seem so sure, with the exception of Henry, perhaps. “I think that could be a great idea, Granny.”

“But David, even if we all want to go back, it might not be so simple,” Mary Margaret says quietly.

“So all of you want to go back to the Enchanted Forest?” Neal asks, sounding shocked. He looks to Emma, but Killian notices she doesn’t meet his eyes.

“I’m not sure. But it could be good to have the chance, right? To take back our realm?” David answers.

“We have no idea what’s waiting for us, though,” Mary Margaret steps in. “We could be walking into a bloodbath, with all the ogres running around.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Belle adds, briefly sending Killian a warning look, like he might jump in and reveal all to the group. “Perhaps we could send an advance group, just to get the lay of the land? Like a research mission? A small group would raise much less noise in case of ogres or anything else.”

The others nod, seeming to like Belle’s suggestion. 

“That’s not a bad idea,” David says eventually. “We don’t want to take any unnecessary risks.”

The queen, as usual, is still a bit skeptical. “And how would that work? Who would be willing to go on a mission like that?””

“I could,” Belle pipes up. “I’ve been gathering information about the Enchanted Forest, and…I don’t have much in the way of roots here.” Her voice quiets as she finishes, eyes sad. Killian runs a hand over his face, understanding the pain she’s feeling.

“I’ll go too,” Emma sighs.

Mary Margaret turns to her sharply. “Emma, are you sure?”

“I want to make sure it’s safe for you guys, if you really want to settle there,” she says quietly, smiling sadly at her mother.

“No,” Neal states, shaking his head. “I can go with Belle. You shouldn’t be separated from your family.”

“I can handle it, Neal.”

“Do you really want to live there? In the Enchanted Forest?” he asks, and Killian can hear the trembling in his voice. He knows how badly young Baelfire wanted to escape the suffering he experienced in that land, and it’s clear he might still bear some of that pain.

“I…” Emma looks around the room, clearly feeling put on the spot. “Maybe? Either way, it’s better to find out if it’s safe or not, just in case.”

“Then let me go.” Neal steps closer to Emma, but the action seems to only make her tense up more. “Please. Let me do this for you. And Henry.”

The boy looks at his father with pride, but Emma still seems uncertain. Killian, once again, feels like he shouldn’t be witnessing such a moment. And he certainly doesn’t understand why Neal and Emma seems so desperate to part from each other, even with Neal framing the quest like it will be an act of service to Emma and her family.

Something unspoken must pass between them, because finally Emma nods once. “Fine. You and Belle go, then.”

“Well then,” Regina says with a roll of her eyes. “It seems we need to start figuring out a plan for this mission.”

“Rumplestiltksin’s manor,” Belle says. “Neal mentioned some goodhearted people were living there, maybe that could be our first stop? To get a better sense of the ogre situation from them.”

“Plus, my father’s castle could have some useful information of its own,” Neal adds.

Killian winces. It seems there will be no mention of the fact that some of that information may be regarding the curious death of the Dark One himself. When he tunes back into everyone debating how Belle and Neal will go about their quest, he finds Emma silent, staring at him shrewdly.

He sends her a cautious smile in return, but that just makes her eyes narrow even more. The suspicion in her look makes Killian shiver, and he steps forward to re-engage in the debate, dreading the inevitable moment when Emma will pull him aside after this meeting is over.

It seems Killian won’t even make it until the end of the discussion, as Emma quietly tells her mom she’s stepping out for some water. She grasps Killian firmly by the arm and drags him towards the door, the rest of the group unfortunately distracted by Leroy’s booming voice, claiming he knows best how to defeat an ogre.

Emma walks him down the hall until they’re well out of earshot of the office before she lets go and turns on him, face stoic like she’s about to suss out a confession from him.

“You weren’t surprised. When you heard about the beans, you weren’t surprised.”

It’s not a question, but an accusation. And an accurate one at that. Killian considers weaving some tale about how he had assumed that was the case, given the recent liveliness of the dwarves and Anton around town.

But Emma’s laser focused on him, just waiting to call him out for the lie. More importantly, Killian doesn’t want to deceive her. He hasn’t had to explicitly lie to her since Neal and Belle requested his help, but the knowledge of their plans have still weighed heavily in the back of Killian’s mind whenever he comes across Emma.

He doesn’t want her looking at him the way that she is, untrusting and ready to be betrayed again.

“No, I wasn’t surprised.”

Emma doesn’t respond for a moment, looking almost shocked at Killian’s words, like she was hoping he’d let her down. “How did you know?”

“Belle told me.”

Emma’s nostrils flare at his admission. “Why would she do that?”

Killian runs his hook along the rings on his fingers, the spacious hallway suddenly feeling much too small given the tension now between them. He finds himself trying to focus on anything but her, nervous to face Swan and see the confusion and suspicion behind her eyes. “She thought it was pertinent information for me to have, I suppose.”

“And why would that be?”

Killian sighs. He’d wanted to go to her a thousand times after she confronted him on the docks, explain it all away, but at the time he thought it was Neal’s cross to bear. Let him be the one to reveal this foolish mission to Emma. And yet she’s clearly still in the dark, and Killian has no interest in misleading her further.

“You haven’t talked to Neal yet, have you?”

“I’m talking to you right now, not Neal.”

“You always seem to do that,” he mutters.

“So you and Belle just share everything now?”

“I’ve found that near death experiences bring people closer together,” Killian quips with a raise of his eyebrows.

Emma doesn’t enjoy his attempt at a joke. “You were the one that shot her.”

“Aye, you’re right. Strange how these things work out, isn’t it?”

“Hook,” Emma says, face hard. “Killian. Why did Belle tell you about the beans?”

“Because. She thought I could help her.”

“With…?”

“I was one of the people in our old realm most recently, so she was curious to learn more about what’s left there. She’s quite the studious type.”

“Why didn’t she ask me? Or Mary Margaret?”

“I’m more approachable, obviously.”

She scoffs, still waiting for him to answer seriously.

“You heard her in there. She has a special interest in Rumplestiltskin’s old manor. Neal and I are the ones most familiar with it, so we were providing details on the region for her.”

“So she wants to what – move back in?”

“You’d have to ask her. I just helped draw a map.”

“You’re being withholding,” Emma complains as she leans back against the wall across from him, arms crossed. 

Killian takes a moment to look at her, angry at himself once again that he’s found himself at odds with Emma Swan. It’s a disquieting position to be in, for more than one reason.

“I wasn’t aware this was an interrogation,” he responds finally, more defensive than he’d meant.

“And I wasn’t aware I needed to make it one.”

“You don’t,” Killian says quieter, wishing she would hold this much anger for her beloved Neal as she does for him. And hating himself for the thought. “I just doubt I have the answers you want.”

“And what would those be?”

“I don’t know, that everything’s fine and dandy? Or perhaps that I’m conspiring against all of you?”

“Why would I want that to be the answer to whatever this is?”

Killian takes a moment to lick his lips, noticing the way Emma’s eyes subtly follow the movement. “I think you enjoy fighting with me.”

She focuses her gaze back on him, like she never looked away. “I really don’t.”

“Then why are you here, still pushing, when I just told you I don’t have any answers?”

“Because. I think you do. I think you just don’t want to tell me. Or maybe you just wanted to find a way back to your old realm without anyone knowing.”

Killian grinds his teeth, wishing he’d hadn’t finished his flask on the walk to the library this evening. Like he could ever take off and leave Emma, no matter how much she and everyone else want to goad him into reverting back to his more villainous ways. “And I think you’d rather be disappointed by me than by Belle. Or Neal. Which is why you’re asking me.”

“Then save everyone the trouble and tell me what’s going on.”

“All I know is, Belle thinks there might be more to the crocodile’s death that we don’t understand.”

Emma groans, and Killian immediately understands her frustration. Dead Dark Ones should stay just that: dead and forgotten, especially one as wretched as Rumplestiltskin.

“And that’s why she’s volunteering to do all of this? She’s planning something else without us?”

“I’m sure she was serious about checking the safety of the realm.”

“But she has her own agenda on top of that. One that she clearly has no interest in telling us about.”

“Oh come off it, Swan. She’s a woman in grief, not some nefarious villain. Besides, who doesn’t have their own agenda in there? I’d bet a fair sum that Granny’s already planning the diner’s expansion into a Misthaven branch. The woman’s certainly a shrewd capitalist.”

Emma doesn’t answer, still clearly trying to make sense of the new revelations. “So how are you and Neal involved?”

“Like I said, she wanted help, because she wants to make the journey to his castle. See what she can learn from there.”

“But why would you help her?”

“I don’t know, because they asked?”

“Because Neal asked.”

“That could have been it.”

She runs a hand over her face, seemingly disappointed with Killian’s agreement. For a moment he wants to press further. He’d thought she would be alright, if not pleased, with the fact that Killian and Neal weren’t exactly at odds with each other, the way they were in Neverland. Why does it upset her so that Killian is trying to do the right thing?

“You know you don’t have to do everything he wants just because you feel guilty.” He’s taken aback at the harshness of Emma’s tone, and he briefly wonders if she’s projecting slightly. If Emma feels guilt, towards Neal or others, and feels trapped trying to make things right.

Killian is overwhelmed at times, how similar and stubborn they both can be. Even now, as she pokes and prods at him, as he opts to be purposely obtuse about the whole situation, Killian still feels a kinship with her.

“That’s not why.”

“Then what about-”

“Swan, I’ve told you all I can.”

He turns away from her, pacing briefly up and down the hall. He doesn’t want to talk to her about Neal. Doesn’t want to focus on all the guilt he still feels towards him and Belle, the fact that he still hasn’t apologized, because what good would that do?

The day had started out so lovely, and Killian tries to hold onto the memory of earlier, but the playful smile Emma wore during lunch has now twisted into anger and frustration with him. All because Killian doesn’t know how to be forthright with her, all because he doesn’t know how to navigate all this: trying to be ‘good’, trying to repent for lifetime upon lifetime of vengeance and bloodshed.

Killian steels himself before turning back to Emma. She’s looking down at her feet, indignation obvious on her face. It seems neither of them will be satisfied by the outcome of this conversation.

“I’ll think I’ll take my leave now, Swan. I’d appreciate if you send my regards to the group, “he mutters, stepping away slowly. She doesn’t answer, just letting out a huff in response. “I’ll ask you again to confer with Neal. It seems like this matter is more between the two of you.”

He makes to leave, but pauses when Emma opens her mouth slightly, looking defeated now. “But I asked you, Killian. Not Neal. You.”

For a moment Killian wants to walk back, step right up to her, ask her what she means by that. If maybe there’s more to her words, if she feels the intensity between them that keeps Killian up at night. 

But his decision is made for him when Emma pushes herself off the wall, stalking past him down the hall before Killian can fully process how much he might have just disappointed her.

-

The coward in Killian wants to stay away, would prefer to hole up in his ship and drink deeply until he can no longer remember his constant failures. 

But Killian has changed, someway, somehow. And now that Emma knows more of the truth, he decides he ought to help out as much as he can, at least to avoid another punch to the face from her father.

So Killian arrives at the loft bright and early the following morning, fully prepared to be turned away.

Mary Margaret is the one to open the door, clearly surprised to see Killian on the other side. 

“Hook!” She opens the door wider, a hesitant smile on her face. “Is everything okay? I noticed you left early last night.”

Killian huffs, noticing the bustle in the kitchen behind her, where David is eyeing him with confusion as he serves food to Henry at the breakfast bar. Nothing seems amiss in the loft, not like the boy’s father is about to embark on a potentially fatal journey.

“When do Belle and Neal plan to leave for Misthaven?” he asks brusquely.

“Tonight, actually,” Mary Margaret responds slowly. “We figured the sooner we know what we could be dealing with, the better.”

It’s at that moment that Emma bounds down the small staircase in the loft, a smile on her face until she spots Killian in the doorway.

“What are you doing here?”

The entire Charming family turns to him fully, then, clearly confused by Emma’s hostile tone.

“Trying to…” he shrugs, feeling his face flush under all the scrutiny. Before he can figure out exactly what it is he’s doing, Emma groans and starts pushing him out the door, much like she did last night.

“He’s here to talk to me,” she says with fake smile to her parents. “We’ll be just a second.”

Killian allows her to shuffle him out the door, her smile staying until the door is shut and they’re halfway down the flight of stairs, presumably out of earshot from her parents.

“Why are you here?” she asks again, as if they were somehow supposed to be on the same page.

“I- well, I suppose I wanted to apologize for last night. And the past…few weeks. When I wasn’t being entirely forthright with all of you.”

Emma doesn’t budge, but she doesn’t outright kick him down the rest of the stairs, so Killian figures he has a chance here.

“I’m sorry, Swan. I should’ve told you sooner.”

“You should’ve,” she states. “But David and Mary Margaret wouldn’t know what you were talking about, anyways.”

“You haven’t told them?” Killian asks.

“I was getting to it,” Emma groans, running a hand through her long blonde hair, still slightly messy from sleep. “Or- I was debating getting to it.”

Killian leans against the railing, examining her slightly guilty expression. “You’d keep this from them?” He winces at the glare she shoots him. “You know what I mean, Swan. What’s your plan here?”

“I talked to Belle last night,” she says lowly, looking around like her parents and Henry might pop out of the walls at any moment. “After the meeting. She showed me the stuff she’s been working on at the library.”

“The lass certainly has a knack for gathering information.”

“You’re not wrong,” Emma agrees. “I could tell she was being honest about wanting to make sure the Enchanted Forest is safe for the rest of us. I trust her on that.”

“And everything else…?”

Emma sighs, shrugging. “I don’t know. I mean, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to learn a little bit more about the darkness, how all of that type of magic works. And I think Belle is smart enough to not do anything too risky.”

“All true, Swan. So why the secrecy from your parents?”

“I don’t know, really,” she half-whispers, looking confused at her own actions. “I’m not actively trying to keep it from them, but…”

“It’s hard to keep secrets in this town, if the beans are any indication.”

“Exactly,” Emma says with an emphatic nod. “I think Belle’s worried that people will draw the wrong conclusions, like she’s dabbling in dark magic or something. I don’t think it’s so wrong to give her some time to try to figure this out.”

While Killian agrees, he gets the sense that Emma is holding something back about her reasons. “Is that all? You’re just worried about protecting Belle?”

She rolls her eyes, evidently annoyed that Killian can still read her so well. “It’s just…Henry.”

“Henry?”

“He- Belle told me a little more about your work. And how Neal has been a big part of it. Right now, Henry, and my parents for that matter, think Neal’s just doing this big heroic gesture to protect us all. I don’t know if I want to ruin that fantasy.”

Killian can’t help it as his jaw clenches in frustration. Neal hadn’t had the gumption to come forward to Emma on his own, and certainly still hasn’t, and yet she feels the need to protect him from his own choices, even if it hurts her in the end. 

He’s overwhelmed with pure unbridled jealousy. If he had even half a chance to have Emma care for him the way she must for Neal, he would never put her in a position like this.

“I understand,” he whispers finally. “Just remember, Neal is his own man. You don’t owe him anything, certainly not shielding him from the consequences of his own actions.”

“I could say the exact same thing to you, Hook,” Emma bites back, voice steely.

He opens his mouth to deny it, but what’s there to deny? She was right last night, and she’s right again now. While at this point he does consider Neal to be somewhat of a friend, he also knows his feelings towards Milah’s son are filled with deep regret, guilt, jealousy; the reason he kept quiet about Neal and Belle’s plans was mostly because it was the least Killian could do, after all the ways he’d derailed their lives in the past.

“Then maybe we have something to learn from each other.”

Emma lets out a small laugh at that.

“I _am_ sorry, Swan. For not telling you sooner. I know it doesn’t mean much now, but I had no ill intentions.”

Emma scrunches her nose slightly, still frowning slightly. “I know. I get why you did a little more now. I just…you could have come to me.” The last part is a whisper, an admission not meant to be said aloud.

For a moment Killian considers taking a step closer to her, just to feel her nearer to him. Her expression is open, and he gets the sense it wouldn’t be an unwelcome move. But then he remembers what brought them here, to this little landing beneath her loft. They’re talking here because she thinks she ought to protect Neal, because she – because that’s what people do when they love someone, Killian supposes.

So instead he nods once, trying to take comfort in the fact that while Emma hasn’t quite forgiven his transgressions, he didn’t completely destroy whatever foundation they had started building since Neverland. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, Swan.”

-

It’s a small party that sees off Belle and Neal, in the woods near the wishing well. They have an extra bean for their return, which should be in about two weeks time, if everything goes to plan. 

Killian’s fuzzy on the details of said plan, having left last night’s meeting early, and only half-paying attention at the gathering this afternoon. He’s already put in his work, and now it’s up to the two of them to not get killed. Killian hopes for everyone’s sake, they succeed in that regard.

Belle gives him a hug and a grateful smile, neither of which he fully deserves, but he feels discomfort when he realizes he’ll miss their time spent together in the library.

He and Neal exchange a stiff hug, but he grabs tighter onto the man when Neal whispers, “Take care of them, please?” referring to Emma and Henry.

“Of course. Until you return, Bae.” He lets go, turning away as Neal goes to say goodbye to Emma. Killian just hopes he really will return to his family, hopes he isn’t sending the man to his death, like he’d almost done the last time they’d parted ways, some two hundred years ago.

The group steps away as Neal throws the bean, the two of them sending back one more hopeful smile as they jump into the swirling vortex. It closes up behind them, the only evidence of its existence is the small dip in the forest floor.

The first week goes by painfully slowly, Killian dreading that the two of them will pop out of the ground at any instant, disheveled and half-dead from angry ogres. He distracts himself from worry by catching up with his crew, which apparently Tinkerbell has decided she is now apart of. She mentions offhand that the convent life isn’t quite for her, and that’s that.

Killian is pleased with the way his crew has settled into Storybrooke, in this new life of calling themselves pirates without all of the bloodshed and theft that they used to partake in before the curse. He dreads the moment that the townspeople are made aware of the plan to take back the Enchanted Forest, knowing that despite this new lifestyle, his crew will still happily expect him to lead them once again. After all, a pirate’s life is forever.

He’s suspicious when he receives a visit from both Emma and Regina one morning, an excited Henry in tow.

“Your majesty,” he nods to Regina, “your…savior? Highness?” he ventures as Emma crosses her arms.

“God, no. Emma’s fine,” she huffs out, flustered as usual at the reminder that she is technically Misthaven royalty.

“What can I do for you two?”

“We need a babysitter for Henry,” Regina announces bluntly, seemingly amused at the fact that they’re coming to Captain Hook for such a service.

“What she _means_ is,” Emma interjects, “We were hoping you could take Henry out sailing today, while Regina gives me some magic lessons. Or training. Whatever it’s called.”

Killian perks up at that. “I’d be glad to watch the boy.” He waves Henry over with a grin, giving him a few tasks to prepare the ship to set sail. Once he’s turned back, he’s left with only Emma in front of him, Regina clearly ready to get started after making her goodbyes to Henry. “I’m glad to hear it, Swan. I think you could be quite the powerful magic user. I’ve seen how strong you are.”

Emma blushes, looking around the docks, anywhere but Killian’s face. “We’ll see. It could be handy in the future, to have control of my magic.” She winces at that. “It still feels weird to say. That I have…abilities.”

“I think you’ll learn quickly.”

“I thought you hated magic, didn’t you?”

He shrugs, not bothering to deny it. It has always been a scary and foreign concept to him. “That was when magic was used against me. Being on the same side as someone as powerful as you…well that’s something I’m interested in.”

“So we’re on the same side now?”

“Of course,” Killian nods, brow furrowing as he looks into Emma’s eyes, trying to soothe the nerves he spies just beneath the surface. “I’m always on your side, Swan.”

Emma stays still for a moment, seeming to process his words. As usual, the yearning on her face tells one story, but her words tell another, that she’s not quite ready to acknowledge all that’s between them. “I’ll pick him up this afternoon. Thanks, Hook.”

Killian waits to crumble just a bit, until she’s back at the other end of the dock. He gives himself one moment of self-pity and just a bit of anguish, before he paints a smile back on his face, determined entertain Henry endlessly as they sail.

The same as the last few instances Killian has spent time with the boy, he finds he enjoys the company. He’s full of questions about the ship, fervently listening to every bit of information Killian offers him. Just like his mother, Henry is a quick study, though much more amenable to constructive criticism compared to Emma.

“Hey Hook,” Henry calls, soon after they’ve finished lunch. “Do you think you could teach me some fighting skills?”

Killian hums at that, lazily dragging his hook along the helm. “Hasn’t your grandfather been training you a bit?”

“Well, yeah, but-” Henry pauses, eyeing Killian like he might report whatever he says next directly to the prince. “Sometimes the things he teaches me are so…boring.”

“Boring? How do you mean?”

Henry slumps on the rail of the ship, looking guilty. “It’s still cool and stuff, but I don’t think it’ll matter that much how many footwork drills I did if someone is trying to kill me, you know?”

“You’re still young, lad. And the boring stuff will be more important than anything else, when your back’s against a wall and a sword’s to your neck. That’s when the muscle memory kicks in; that’s when those drills are the difference between life and death.”

Henry raises his eyebrows, weighing Killian’s words. “But can’t you teach me just a little bit? I saw you practicing with your crew, I want to learn how to move like you do. David just shows me how to stay still, but you were jumping around the ship and swinging on ropes and stuff.”

“I’ll consider it,” Killian mumbles, his ego swelling slightly as Emma’s son compliments his more rakish fighting style. He’s sure Henry’s well aware of what he’s doing, but that doesn’t mean it’s not working.

“Did you teach my dad to fight?”

The topic of Neal gives Killian pause. “No, just sailing. I almost wish I had, although he seemed to survive just fine on his own.”

Henry’s chest puffs with pride. “I miss him, but I’m glad he’s going to take back our kingdom for us.”

“Of course.” Killian turns away from the boy, unable to say much with the guilt weighing heavy in his stomach. He just hopes Henry’s right, that Neal is successful in his quest, that whatever he and Belle might find doesn’t result in tragedy for all of them, Henry most of all.

He shakes himself, turning back to Henry with a smirk. “I’ll teach you some tricks, lad, but only if you promise me one thing.”

“Anything,” Henry shouts as he jumps up, bouncing on his feet.

“That next time you’re sparring the prince, you’ll surprise him with what you’ve learned. He’ll be shocked. And rather upset with me, I’d imagine.”

“Done,” Henry agrees with grin as Killian goes in search of some sparring sticks below deck.

It’s a good day, one of the better Killian’s had in recent memory. To their surprise, it’s David and Mary Margaret waiting for them as they dock the Jolly Roger, Henry an old pro as he ties off the final knot.

He goes running to his grandparents, Killian feeling a burst of pride as Henry raves about his day as an honorary pirate. He can’t help but laugh to himself as he spies a hint of jealousy on David’s face that Killian was able to provide such excitement for the boy.

Mary Margaret seems pleased however, gesturing Killian over after he’s secured the ship. “Thanks for looking after him, Hook.”

“Please,” Killian waves a hand in nonchalance, “It’s always a pleasure. The lad is just about ready to take command of his own ship, if I’m honest.”

David glares at that, as if Killian’s really been tutoring Henry on the fine art of committing larceny on the open seas. “We’ll see about that.”

Sensing her husband’s rising annoyance, Mary Margaret rests a hand on his arm, shooting a kind smile Killian’s way. “Why don’t you join us at Granny’s for dinner? Regina and Emma are meeting us there.”

Killian opens his mouth to refuse the invitation, but something stops him. He feels small for only considering joining now that Neal is gone temporarily, but he worries he might never get another chance once Neal gets back, once they return to Misthaven and Emma finally takes her place as a princess, as much as she wants to pretend she’s not the type.

Killian will have no place in her life soon, not the way he does now. He could be a friend, an infrequent visitor on stops between travels, but he knows if the prince and princess take their throne back, a pirate like Killian will not be a very useful asset at court. And more than that, he has no desire to stick around like a lovesick fool to watch Emma and Neal rekindle their romance in earnest, probably to the delight of the whole kingdom.

So Killian accepts Mary Margaret’s offer, telling himself that this next week he will let himself indulge in the company of good people, in the company of a woman who has awoken his appetite for life, something he thought long-since dormant.

The week passes, Killian a frequent visitor at the loft, making Mary Margaret grin on more than one occasion and avoiding coming to blows with David altogether, which he considers a success.

The week passes, and Emma giggles as she practices magic in front of him, something Killian never thought he’d witness – both the giggling and the willingness to indulge in her powers. He continues to care for Henry as Emma and Regina train, enjoying the few times when the queen allows them to watch from the sidelines as she tutors Emma, Killian continuing to be stunned by the progress she makes with her abilities.

The week passes, and then another week passes, and with it the joy fades and dread creeps in. Because Belle and Neal have not returned, and Killian knows something’s very wrong.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof sorry this took so long!! lol this chapter was such a struggle to write, hopefully it wasn't too much of a struggle to read. i was just too caught up in stuff i was writing for later chapters to focus on this one 🌝 
> 
> here's my [tumblr!](https://sithsoupsnakes.tumblr.com/)


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